Five Times Alan Flew Another Thunderbird
by Silverstar
Summary: ...and the one time he didn't.
1. Thunderbird One

**_Hey guys. Wow, it feels weird saying (typing?) that again after so long. But a good weird, y'know? So, guess who just finished their first GCSE? That's right, ya girl Silverstar! While I'm now suffering through end of year exams, I did make a promise that I would be back at the end of May, so while I may be a couple of days late, here I am. I figured what better way to return to this site than writing once again for the first fandom I ever wrote for?_**

 ** _Not gonna lie, this is the first five plus one I've ever written and as you all know, it's been a while. So, let me know what you think, and I'll post the next chapter later this week._**

 ** _Right, actual notes. As usual, this is a mixture of all verses, with a heavy TAG influence. Differences being - I still headcannon that John is blond, not Gordon, and like always in my fics, John is the second eldest, not Virgil (just clarifying for some of you) but Kayo is mentioned in here. I don't think there's anything else that should raise any questions, but feel free to ask! :)_**

 ** _Warnings: swearing (two uses of the f-word) and some Scotty whumpage in this chapter._**

* * *

Perched on the end of the kitchen counter, the Alan Tracy was revelling in the first peace and quiet that week. With a surprising lack of rescues to attend to, they had all been going stir crazy (apart from John who watched them in amusement over the top of his book – it was a Steinbeck and the blond was determined to finish it by the end of the weekend) which in a household where the youngest was sixteen and the eldest was only twenty-five (Brains had never mentioned his age, and no soul was brave enough to ask their Grandma how old she was), never bode well.

Alan had been briefly aware of the distant klaxon sounding accompanied by pounding footsteps not five minutes later, but he'd rolled over to push his face back into the freshly washed pillows, safe in the knowledge that he wasn't required. While Scott had been allowing him on more missions as of late, especially where '3 was concerned, he was still banned from the majority of rescues. Sure enough, when he'd emerged from his room an hour later, the villa was deserted. With Brains still at a science conference at Caltech, Alan wandered into the kitchen with MAX at his heels and reached for the nearest item of fruit absent-mindedly (pancakes were only worth having if John or Gordon were making them).

The hologram projector purred into life without warning. Floating above the table, John observed his brother with a sympathetic look. "Morning Al."

"Mornin'," Alan mumbled through a mouthful of nectarine. "Where's everyone else?"

Without needing to look across at the readouts to his left, John recited the locations. "Scott, Virgil and Gordon are in Jakarta, Indonesia and Kayo's in Sochi."

Alan frowned. "Isn't that in Russia?"

"Yep." John shot him an impressed look. "Someone's being doing their Geo homework."

"Ha. Yeah." Alan drew his knees up to his chest, leaning forwards to rest his chin onto the top. The loose fabric of his pyjamas hung low over his heels and he snuck a guilty look over his shoulder, still expecting to hear his grandmother's chastising tones for having his feet on the counter.

"Alan."

He lifted his chin, raising a brow at his brother's disembodied form. "What?"

Ever perceptive (Virgil had to have learnt it from someone, after all), John continued with a gentler tone. "Scott won't keep you off rescues for ever. He's just on edge after Dad…well." He trailed off.

"Right and I get that. But it's not fair." Alan stared despondently down at his nectarine. From John's perspective, he cast a forlorn looking figure and not for the first time the space monitor debated whether taking a break from '5 to take a trip down dirt-side was a good idea. "I get that I'm underage and all that but c'mon. Gordon's only three years older than me and Scott's happy to send him to the bottom of the ocean."

"I wouldn't say happy is the right word," John began, cutting himself off at the frustrated glare Alan gave him. "But I promise I'll talk to him. Okay?"

"Okay."

"I've gotta go. I'll call you later."

"Yeah."

"Hey Sprout, you know I miss you, right?"

Alan looked up just enough for John to catch sight of the slight smile forming on his face, despite the bereft light that remained in his eyes. "Uh huh." With a flickering blue glow, the hologram dispersed into the air, leaving him alone on the kitchen counter again. At his feet, MAX let out a sad chirp and Alan patted the robot on the head with a heavy sigh. "So, MAX," he murmured with a sorrowful look over at the maths textbooks sat in a neat pile on the coffee table. "What d'you think of algebra?"

By the time he'd finished his shower (featuring an elaborate rendition of Imagine Dragons' Evolve album, complete with shampoo bottle as a mic) and delved into the depths of his closet in search of a clean shirt (he had a habit which he'd picked up from Gordon of leaving everything in a pile and doing one big wash every couple of weeks; for a procrastinating teenager it was great, but not so good when it came to finding something to wear that hadn't been bought for him by Grandma), as well as working through a good third of his maths homework with MAX, there came a familiar beeping sound from the centre of the table. Leaping to his feet, Alan discarded the textbook and collapsed onto the sofa.

"Hey guys," he announced before the smile dropped from his face. "Oh. Hi."

Gordon narrowed his eyes in disapproval. "Gee, thanks," he drawled, leaning up to adjust one of the controls. Used to the small cabin of Thunderbird 4, while he had co-piloted '2 before, he was finding the stretch took some getting used to. Which, given the cockpit was designed for his bear of a brother, wasn't too much of a surprise.

Alan, after many years of being the youngest, wasn't slow to pick up on details. "Where's Virg? Is he okay?" His eyes widened in horror as a variety of scenarios played out in his mind. Gordon, with a jolt of realisation, was quick to reassure him.

"Relax, Virg is fine."

"Why are you flying '2? Virgil never lets you fly '2."

Gordon opened his mouth to answer before another low voice interjected. "Yeah, for good reason." Gordon sent a murderous look across the cockpit to the speaker, who remained out of range of the hologram projector. For some, this could be perceived as an innocent mistake. For Alan, this was instantly suspicious.

"Scott, why can't I see you?"

Gordon, with the smug look of someone who knew entirely too much for his own good, sniggered. With a condescending pat to his older brother's shoulder, he smirked at the hologram. "Because he's high on painkillers."

"I am not high," Scott protested from afar, before his voice rose significantly in pitch. "Ooh, starbursts. Gordo, look it's _pretty_."

"Put it down." With an exasperated expression wiping the smirk clean off his face, Gordon retrieved Virgil's sketchbook from the elder's hands in a surprising display of sympathy, although it was more likely that Virgil had blackmail material on him. Either way, the sketchbook was safely stowed away in the locker to his right.

Back on the couch, Alan was sitting cross-legged, holding back his questions in a surprising feat of patience. A low rumble from outside the sliding doors revealed that Thunderbird 1 was landing. The familiar skittering sound as the deckchairs were sent flying signified the descent before the pool slid back to its usual position.

Gordon, suddenly looking significantly paler than usual, ended the transmission from his end, leaving Alan in the dark as to what exactly had happened on the rescue. Scott never let anyone fly Thunderbird 1, and Virgil was equally as protective of '2.

"Hey, Virg." The blond offered a wave from the sofa, lounging over the back like a cat. Virgil, with a thunderous look on his face, stormed into the lounge, something which despite appearances, was very uncharacteristic (unless you were counting Gordon's recent rather one-sided prank war).

"Go ahead," he sighed, all but collapsing into the sofa to the left. His uniform was smeared with soot and ash, and a streak of what looked suspiciously like blood was smeared across his left cheek. "I know you're dying to ask."

"Why'd you fly '1?"

"And there it is."

Alan pouted (which he would fiercely deny later). "I lasted a minute. That's an improvement." Virgil opened one eye and just _stared._ "Shut up."

"Didn't say anything." With a wide yawn, Virgil sat up, his back clicking in a way that Gordon would have been proud of. Alan held back a cringe, instead sitting forward, a little too much eager puppy than he was cool teenager. "Gordon and Scott are both too stubborn for their own good. Long story short, Scott's got a concussion as well as a fractured arm and Gordon's a bit roughed up."

"His back okay?"

Virgil ducked his head to hide his smile at the question. Alan could complain about the mother-henning Scott did all he wanted, but the truth remained that the youngest was just as bad, especially when it came to his partner in crime. Although, the middle Tracy mused, they all were just that tad bit overconcerned whenever it was Gordon injured given the previous hydrofoil accident.

"He's fine," he admitted after a moment. "But they both should have waited for backup."

Alan nodded, losing his balance to fall face-first onto the sofa. "How was flying '1?"

Virgil looked away suspiciously quickly. Alan, always eager for gossip, something which he vehemently denied, sidled closer, fighting back a sneeze at the cloud of ash that floated away from his brother's uniform. "What _happened_?"

Virgil, at the sudden appearance of Gordon with an overly cheerful looking Scott (the pain meds clearly hadn't worn off yet) partially draped around his shoulders, made a dash for the door, mumbling about a shower. It would be an hour later that Alan would remember about Thunderbird 1, and a dash to the hanger would reveal that the silver rocket would be requiring a new coat of paint sooner rather than later. Scott was not going to be pleased.

Alan spent the next couple of days lounging on a chair in the infirmary; partly keeping Scott company and partly preventing the elder from leaving. For the first time in a good month, the two were able to talk without arguing over Alan's role within International Rescue. It was only John's appearance that reminded the younger blond of his previous quarrel with the Field Commander, but a single look from his usually space-bound sibling warned him that it was not to be brought up.

By the time Scott had been freed from his cast and declared fit for flight again (all the inhabitants of the islands were glad for this; an earth-bound Scott was _not_ the best of company to say the least), it had been decided as a team (by which they meant John had brought up the subject during movie-night and they'd discussed it over Gordon's obnoxiously loud slurping of lemon soda) that they were all to spend time on the simulators to build on their capability and skill of handling the other Thunderbirds besides their individual crafts. Alan passed with flying colours on all apart from Thunderbird 4 which Gordon teased him mercilessly about for the next fortnight, with Scott unsurprisingly also passing the higher levels. John was surprisingly skilled at piloting the other crafts, with a bored looking Kayo slipping away unnoticed after surpassing Gordon's high-scores. Virgil kept his scores well hidden, but it had not escaped his family's notice that he'd spent more time in '3's simulator than any of the others.

Despite the rigorous training schedule they'd kept to, it was only Alan who really benefitted. At some point John had taken Scott aside (the two often had deep conversations late at night; or, as Gordon called it, plotting sessions) and had spoken to him about Alan's position on the team. Later that week, Alan had found himself cornered by the smoothie-machine by an anxious looking Scott and following a long conversation about responsibilities and concerns, he had been cleared to fly alongside Virgil and Gordon.

* * *

 _Thunderbird 1_

It had not escaped any of their notices that Alan was fast becoming a skilled pilot. Combining hard work with naturally occurring talent had paid off, and Scott was the first to offer him praise, watching his youngest brother fly Tracy One across to Penelope's mansion for the first time with obvious pride shining in his face. With a teasing look, Gordon had offered him a tissue, commenting that he looked like a proud parent. The words had rung a little too close to home; a stark reminder of their father's disappearance. Scott was well aware that watching Alan's first solo flight in the executive jet should have been Jeff's role, but he was more than happy to step up to the job.

International Rescue's connections within the GDF had improved, leaving the team free to roam the world to aid people globally. Scott revelled in the first few days of nationally free flight, taking Thunderbird 1 for a 'test run' following the new thrusters Brains had added; the barrel rolls over the Saharan desert may have been a bit much, but the adrenaline rush was well worth it. Back on Tracy Island, Alan's approaching final exams had been met with a flurry of revision and studying that Scott left for John and Virgil. While he had passed school with good grades, it was no secret that John had languages, English and Maths as well as Computer Studies handled, and Virgil's comprehension of Sciences was well beyond his own grasp. Gordon, who had only ever worked hard in Biology and PE, offered encouragement and dragged his pranking buddy out into the swimming pool for breaks whenever Alan looked like he wanted to jump out the nearest window.

Life, despite no signs of their father, was good. John was visiting regularly, and their Grandma was capable of creating a single recipe without cremating it. So, it was safe to say that Scott had been well within his rights to expect their latest rescue to run without a hitch.

Now, clinging by his fingertips to the hastily bending handle on the side of a burning airship several thousand feet in the air, Scott was really regretting the life decisions that had led him to this place and this situation right now.

"Scott, just hold on, I'm coming right back." Virgil's voice was panicked and a glance down at his watch revealed that his brother looked it as well. His dark hair was pushed back by trembling fingers as the middle Tracy urged his Thunderbird to fly faster.

"That's…uh," Scott fumbled for his words, struggling to grab at the handle with his other hand. His fingers were slipping and with a growl of frustration he ripped at the glove with his teeth, allowing his palms to cling on tighter to the thin metal pole. The pale blue fabric spiralled away to the earth below, vanishing into the wasteland of clouds that lay waiting to snatch him away. The curved hulk of the airship was hot to touch, revealing the fierce inferno which burnt inside. Unfortunately, it was making it harder to grip onto the handle and his uniform clung uncomfortably to his back where he was sweating. "Hey Virg?"

Virgil audibly swallowed. "Yeah?"

"You got the crew to safety, right?"

Virgil closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Scott could practically see the enraged thoughts flitting through his brother's mind; _are you kidding me, Scott? You're about to fall off a burning airship several thousand feet to the ground, but you're asking about the crew?_ He fought back a laugh; his younger brother was far too easy to read sometimes.

"Yes." Virgil answered after a moment, his brow furrowed with worry. "Scott, I'm two minutes out."

"Good to know." Scott replied hesitantly, wincing as he felt his fingers slip closer to the edge of the handle. There was something ironic, he thought, panic flooding through him as his hand slipped even further, in the fact that he'd spent his entire life staring up at the skies and now he was about to die amongst them. For some reason his mind kept coming back to the thought that he still hadn't finished that game of monopoly with Gordon and John and that Penelope had smiled at him in that way last week and he wasn't entirely sure if their lunch meeting next Tuesday was a date or just a friendly thing but oh god, he was never going to find out…

"Scott."

"Yessir?" There was a hissing sound from near the front of the airship, before flames engulfed the front panels. Scott flipped around as best he could and avoided looking down. The flames were feverish in their frenzy and despite the cooling system within his uniform (Brains really did think of everything, didn't he?), he could feel the heat scorching his back.

He could hear the tears in Virgil's voice and purposely avoided looking at the hologram projected from his watch. He wasn't going to let his last sight of his brother be of him crying. It wasn't fair to either of them.

"Don't let go."

He almost laughed at that one. Although, maybe Virgil had a point; letting go would be preferable to the flames inching their way towards him. The amber glow reflected in his helmet and he closed his eyes, sucking in shallow breaths. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears and everything was too much. God. He was losing it, wasn't he?

The clouds below were peaceful and tinged lilac in the approaching dusk. Thunderbird 2 rose from the canopy of cotton like a green angel and Scott fought back a choked sob because _damn,_ '1 was his baby but he hadn't seen anything as beautiful as '2 in that moment.

"Virgil, abort." John's voice was emotionless, and Scott felt that brotherly instinct rise up inside like a flare. John was the Tracy who spent the most time away, but he was also the one who felt their absence the most, spending the majority of his time on the vid-call so as to avoid the soul-crushing loneliness. Space was beautiful, but space was also cold and cruel (Scott would kill to be in Space right now; endless, starlit, _freezing_ space) and Scott worried about his immediate younger brother. But the point remained that John's voice was rarely emotionless; Scott had only heard him like that three times before – when their mom died, Gordon's hydrofoil accident and their Dad's disappearance.

Virgil's language was colourful to say the least. Scott would normally have something to say about that (he was fully aware of how hypocritical he was, given his military mouth) but the aching pain in his arm from where he was hanging combined with the scorching sensation down his spine kept him mute.

"'the hell are you talking about, John?" Virgil's voice was a low growl.

"You can't get close enough. '2's engines are fanning the flames towards him."

Scott would have made some comment about how he was still there, but it took too much effort to form the words. "Hey guys," he whispered. Silence fell across the radio link.

"Y-yeah?" John's voice was somewhat shaky now.

"Remember that movie night?"

"Which one?"

"The one where Alan and Gordon made s'mores and the beanbag exploded on Virg."

"Yeah. I remember that one." John spoke softly. There was a suspicious sniff from his end of the radio. "The one with the puppy pile."

Scott smiled. "Yeah." He closed his eyes again and took a deep breath. "That was a good night." Virgil remained deathly silent on his end of the link, but John hummed under his breath in confirmation. And didn't that hurt as bad as the flames, because John knew exactly what he was doing, but didn't say a word for Virgil's sake.

"I love you." In the silence that fell, it was unsure as to who had spoken. Scott hoped it was him. He didn't tell the others it enough. At least Alan knew; he'd made a pointed effort to tell the kid how proud he was of him.

Scott wondered briefly where Gordon and Alan were. Hopefully nowhere nearby.

"Oh yeah? It's impossible to fly like that? Well just you _fucking watch me._ "

Huh. Speak of the devil. There was Alan. As usual, it sounded like he wasn't listening to orders.

"Hey Scotty." Thunderbird 1 burst into the open air beneath him, silver paintwork gleaming in the amber firelight. "How much do you trust me?" Scott bit back a laugh at that one because _wow_ Alan, stupid question much? "You're gonna have to let go." Alan's voice darkened with that line as he leant back in the pilot's chair. "I promise I'll catch you."

Right. Well then. Apparently, his life was now dependent on his scrawny kid brother, complete with the ruffled blond hair he'd tried to tame into a similar style as his older brothers' and the slightly too big uniform sash.

"Alan." John's voice was low with warning.

"I can do this."

"Of course he can," Scott commented and let go. Plummeting towards the ground instantly knocked the breath from his chest and darkness danced at the corners of his vision. For some reason, he'd always expected to be able to think of something when imminently about to die, but he couldn't think of anything apart from the white noise in his ears and the deep blue of the sky surrounding him as he let go for the second time, falling into the darkness that overtook his vision.

Alan, blocking out all yells from his brothers, cut the power to Thunderbird 1's engines. Within seconds the sleek aircraft began the plunge to the mountains below and with a deep breath, he shut his eyes. He could do this. He'd wanted to prove himself for _so_ long and now it mattered more than anything because while International Rescue meant everything, saving one of their own meant even more.

He opened his eyes, moving on instinct to slow '1's spin. Months of practising weightlessness in space meant that he was well accustomed to moving around inside an aircraft with zero-G and with a light coaxing of the VTOL's, Thunderbird 1 swooped beneath the falling pilot with all the grace and ease of an actual eagle. '1, other than '4 and possibly Thunderbird Shadow, had always been the most reactive of the fleet to handle, and under his light handling the rocket soared through the skies.

"Okay," Alan whispered, with an affectionate pat to the control panel. "Thanks, One." A single press of the control to his right opened the hatch doors, and if it weren't for the grapple he'd attached to the back of the chair previously then he'd have been sucked out with the force of the air pressure. Falling through the air, Alan learnt very quickly, was nothing like falling through space. It was exhilarating but terrifying at the same time and every movement had possibly deadly consequences.

"Thunderbird 1 is slaved to your consol." John reported in his ear, and Alan didn't reply, instead bringing up the holograph of the silver aircraft on his watch. One, obeying his commands, circled down to wait patiently below them, faithful as always and Alan grinned. Colliding with his brother, he clung to Scott as tight as possible, attempting to hold back the panic that threatened to overwhelm him at the lack of response, before landing with a thud in the awaiting Thunderbird. With another tap to his watch, '1 righted herself and slowed her descent to linger in mid-air. Above them, the airship had exploded, sending shockwaves fleeing through the air. Thunderbird 2 hovered defensively above her sister craft, absorbing the impact.

For a few moments, there was silence. Then, with a tremor in his voice, Gordon, who had been listening in since John had joined the radio link, spoke up.

"Alan?"

Alan, crouched on the floor of Thunderbird 1, tore his helmet from his head, throwing it across the cockpit to land on the pilot's chair. "He's okay," he whispered, still curled protectively over his brother's prone form. "Oh my god. He's okay."

Gordon let out an exuberant cheer. John let himself breathe evenly for the first time in fifteen minutes since the ordeal had begun. Virgil collapsed into his seat, rubbing at his red-rimmed eyes before leaning forwards to rest his head against the control panel in front of him.

Alan remained frozen, before startling as he noticed the pair of wide blue eyes fixed on him. Scott, still scarily pale, with the burn marks down the back of his uniform promising nothing good, flopped back in his younger brother's tight hold, letting out a panicky laugh.

"You flew '1," he commented.

"I flew '1," Alan repeated, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I...I flew '1."

"Yeah. You flew her _so_ well." Scott reached up, flinging his free arm around Alan's neck and pressing his forehead to the younger's shoulder. "And you caught me."

"Y-yeah." Alan blinked, before reacting in only way a panicked and overly relieved teenager could; his breathing hitched before suddenly the roles were reversed and he was clinging to the silver fabric of Scott's sash, burying his face in his brother's shoulder and _sobbing_. "Fuck."

"We r-really have to talk about your language," Scott's voice came from somewhere above him and Alan shook his head, blocking out everything else other than the feeling of Scott's protective hug.

Later, when they were all piled in Scott's room, with Alan curled up protectively along one-side, Gordon sprawled across his youngest and eldest brother's feet, John leant against the wall with his arm leaning across Gordon's shoulders and Virgil flung across the four of them, using John's chest as a pillow, the realisation would descend. They were alive. A bit battered, yes (Scott had never been more grateful for burn salve) but alive. And while his brothers lay sleeping around him (Virgil snored too loudly - someone shove a pillow over the guy; it was a wonder John hadn't woken up yet), Scott glanced down at his youngest brother and desperately hoped for Alan's sake that the kid wouldn't have to face a situation similar every again.

But there was still the nagging pride in his mind because Alan had flown his Thunderbird, and not only that, but he had been _awesome_ at it. Fighting back a yawn, Scott shuffled further down the bed, wriggling his toes from where he'd begun to lost the feeling in his feet under Gordon's weight, and thought back on his discussion several months prior with John.

Thunderbird 3 was unofficially Alan's. Yes, he was the only person who ever flew the rocket, but it wasn't official. And just maybe, Scott thought with a fond look at the sleeping blond by his side, it was time to change that.

* * *

 ** _Like always, I'm bad at ending chapters. Still, let me know what you think._**

 ** _Leave a review?_**

 ** _\- Kat x_**


	2. Thunderbird Two

**_Hey guys. What's this - a second chapter within two days?! Here's the truth - I should be revising for a German exam right now. Am I going to ignore that along with other responsibilities so that I can write fanfiction? Yes. Yes I am._**

 ** _Thank you so much to those of you who favourited, followed and read the last chapter and an especially big thank you to those who reviewed. :)_**

 ** _So, without further ado, here is the second instalment. Only one f-bomb, and maybe a touch triggering if you're claustrophobic. Also, for those of you who managed to watch Inferno (the episode which wasn't aired in the U.K. - fear not lovelies, it's on Amazon), see if you can spot the reference._**

* * *

 _Thunderbird 2_

The second time it occurred was on a Tuesday, at three minutes past nine exactly. Alan knows this because he can recall wishing the distress call had come in a minute later. That single minute of extra time would have sufficed as his waffle would have had time to pop out of the toaster, so he could enjoy it during the pre-launch checks (instead it had been found and eaten by Gordon twenty minutes later when he'd got back from his morning swim).

With his exams finally out of the way, Alan was enjoying the relative freedom of the summer holidays. A good half of his time was spent building up experience of flying Thunderbird 3, with the rest of his International Rescue hours dedicated to land-based rescues (Scott was getting there, but the idea of having his youngest brother in the seemingly bottomless depths of the ocean was something he had to work on). Gordon had been surprisingly agreeable to his younger blond counterpart taking his place as Virgil's co-pilot, commenting that he'd missed practising '4's launch from Tracy Island anyway.

This had resulted in much of Alan's time in Thunderbird 2 being spent trying to persuade Virgil to paint her a different colour and creating new playlists that he knew would irritate his brother to no ends. John (following Virgil's pleas) had descended from Thunderbird 5 with a backpack literally crammed full of books which he demanded Alan read, which had kept the blond occupied for most of the flights.

To give credit where it was due, Virgil _had_ allowed him to take the controls and sometimes even the lead on several of the more recent call-outs. After a certain explosion of flames scorching the right-hand side of '2, the middle Tracy had hastily reverted all flying rights for the next week, leaving Alan surrounded by John's dog-eared books and amber holograms, sprawled across his seat in the cockpit.

It seemed to Alan that they'd been receiving more earthquake related calls than ever before, as he had sat slouched in his chair, mourning his waffle while Virgil ran through the pre-flight checks. At least Virgil had been able to have _something_ that morning (although it was questionable as to whether the pilot could even function without coffee at this point). Alan had to admit that he hadn't been listening to John's explanation from the lounge, as he'd silently willed his waffle to pop from the toaster before Virgil had grabbed his arm and literally dragged him across to the launch chute, ignoring his protests.

"So," the blond began, lifting his feet onto the seat to sit cross-legged. "Where're we headed?"

Virgil guided Thunderbird 2 to her new trajectory. "You weren't listening, were you?" His tone resulted in it sounded more like a statement than it was a question.

Alan snuck a look across at him. His brother's mouth quirked with a slight smile, dry amusement clear to hear in his voice. "Nope."

"Abandoned coal mine, western Arizona." Virgil swiped the readouts across to him in the form of holograms. "Three kids were exploring when a 5.3 earthquake struck, which isn't that high, but it caused the roof to cave in at the entrance, so they're trapped in the lower section."

"Anyone injured?"

"No, luckily." A comfortable silence fell, with the only sound being the purring of '2's engines as Virgil guided them over the dry heat of the central American states below. John's hologram appeared with a quiet buzz, as the space-monitor waited patiently for Virgil's report. Golden sunlight flooded the cockpit as the aircraft descended through the wisps of cloud that lay scattered throughout otherwise clear skies. Alan ducked his head to avoid being blinded, cracking his knuckles to watch John cringe, before a soft thud signified they had landed. Thunderbird 2's VTOLs cut out with a low grumble, sending dust spiralling into the air. Arizona appeared to be the queen of stereotypes, with a large expanse of desert and sudden flashes of green where cacti contrasted against the sandy landscape.

John, still glaring at Alan, switched into his profession International Rescue persona with well-practised ease. "I've been in contact with our adventure trio," he mentioned. "The leader is Maya; she's very feisty but she's keeping the others calm, which is always a plus."

Personally, Alan wondered exactly what the girl had done or said to earn the description of feisty by John of all people (the guy talked to Kayo and Scott on a daily basis!), but he managed to keep his mouth shut.

"The other two, Aidan and Carlos, are a bit shaken up, but they're alright."

"Right." Virgil pushed back his chair. "And the bad news?"

John blinked. "What bad news?"

"It's you, Johnny, there's always bad news."

Alan snickered.

"I'll try not to take offence to that." Fighting back a yawn, John skimmed through the scans projected in front of him, flashing EOS' camera a grateful look. "The structural integrity has been compromised, so you'll only have about twenty minutes in which to get them out. As well as that, there are aftershocks headed your way, so watch out for more cave-ins."

"Fun times," Virgil deadpanned, headed for the pod with a farewell ruffle of Alan's hair. Frantically running his fingers through the tousled locks, Alan flipped around in his seat, confusion evident in his expression.

"Wait, what about me?"

Virgil, exchanging a wry look with his immediate older brother who was still hovering above the control panel, nodded to the book. "You can read."

"But that's _boring._ " Alan ignored John's outraged exclamation behind him, widening his eyes in a pleading gaze. "C'mon Virg, you might need my help."

"This is a simple drop in and get them kinda job. All I'm gonna need is the Mole." Virgil sighed, a guilty look crossing his face at the despondent expression that clung to his brother. "Sorry, Al, I promise you can take the next rescue."

With that, he disappeared into the pod below. Alan slid down in the chair with a long groan of frustration. In an act of pettiness, he hit mute on the radio link, propping an arm over his face and closing his eyes.

As ever, if any one of those decisions had been altered, they probably wouldn't be in the situation they were right now. The situation at hand included: a mine, a trapped green-sashed pilot, aftershocks and a muted radio, none of which made for a fun time.

* * *

"I think this is one of my top five worst moments," Virgil commented, wincing as another scattering of dust tumbled from the low ceiling. Squinting, he could still see the particles clinging to his helmet in a muddy smear.

John hummed softly, not really paying attention to his brother as he attempted to locate a different exit. Maya (who had rightfully earnt the title of feisty, it transpired), Aidan and Carlos had been safely transported to the surface, bundled into the Mole which Virgil piloted remotely from his watch. They really needed to address the lack of seating in the Pod, he thought to himself, as now he was trapped near the base of the mine due to further aftershocks, with no way of retrieving the Mole or (apparently) contacting Alan (of all the times for the kid to act like a normal teenager, he just _had_ to pick now).

"Hey John," he murmured, keeping his voice low as though even the slightest of sounds could disturb the tonnes of rock above him. "Any luck yet? Because, y'know, I'd sort of _really_ like to get out of here."

John made an impatient sound in his throat before his blue eyes widened in horror. "Virgil, aftershock, get down-" His warning was cut off in a screech of static as the ground started shaking. With a muttered curse, Virgil dropped to the ground, pressing his back to the solid wall of rock behind him and silently praying he wasn't about to be crushed. The aftershock appeared to carry on forever, with a long crack opening up across the ceiling with a deep rumble. Pebbles skittered down the wall next to him, and one stone smashed into the side of his helmet, sending spiderweb cracks spreading out from the impact. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the shaking stopped.

Virgil gingerly crawled forwards. The ceiling had descended lower than before and he couldn't sit upright without crashing his head into the rock. With one gloved hand, he lightly pressed his fingertips to the rock above him. An ominous groan resounded about the cave at the contact, and he withdrew his hand sharply.

"John?" He whispered. There was no reply and a look down at his watch revealed that he had lost the signal. For the first time, a genuine rush of panic flooded through him, catching in his throat and escaping through minute tremors in his hands. Oh God. He was held prisoner by the cold, unforgiving rocks closing in on him, with no way of contacting his family. He was going to be trapped down here forever. "John? _Please._ "

His breathing hitched, and he instinctively grappled with his helmet. The cool oxygen suddenly felt thick and choking and his fingers connected with the button at the base of the plastic, releasing the helmet to land at his heels. With trembling fingers, he fumbled with the last glowstick on his sash, relief flooding through him as the cool mint-green glow rushed into the tiny cave. In the corners, creeping ever closer, the darkness seemed oppressive and threatening.

"Can anyone hear me?" Virgil schooled his voice into that of false-confidence. There was that uncomfortable burning sensation behind his eyes that always signifies oncoming tears and he drew his knees up to his chest as best he could, sucking in a breath through a choked sob. _Don't cry, don't cry…_ He flew into dangerous situations every day, yet somehow, he always had faith that he'd get out of them. Now it appeared his luck had run out, and god, he wished it didn't terrify him so much, but the fact remained that he was only twenty-one and _he really didn't want to die_.

The glowstick was dimming quicker than he'd expected. His hand met with an empty belt and cold dread engulfed him in a wave. Panic rose up in his throat and he pressed his hands to the hard soil beneath the fabric of his gloves in an attempt to ground himself.

"Oh my god." He cuffed at his cheeks angrily, feeling the warmth of tears cutting ribbons through the thin layer of dust that had gathered there. "I'm actually gonna die down here." Saying it aloud made the panic even worse; a deep fire in his chest making every breath a struggle. He pressed his face to his arms, his useless watch digging painfully into his temple. The glow stick finally flickered out and the darkness swept in, clutching at his very being.

As if on cue, the all-too familiar vibrations chased through the ground.

"No." He startled, making a grab for his helmet a second too late. "No, no, _no."_

The aftershocks hit with a vengeance, sending rocks and dust cascading down from all directions. For a few terrifying seconds, he couldn't tell which way was up or down, and in the darkness all he could hear was his frantic heartbeat pounding in his ears as he threw an arm up in a feeble attempt to protect his head. White-hot pain ignited in his wrist and he couldn't breathe until the shaking dispersed, leaving him in the suffocating darkness.

The ceiling had descended further, if that were even possible. Clutching his injured wrist to his chest, Virgil closed his eyes tightly, and tried to concentrate on breathing. Panic threatened to overwhelm him still and with a strangled cough, he let the tears fall. In the darkness, there was no-one around to see him. But God, he would sacrifice his pride to have someone here to rescue him.

"International Rescue?" He whispered with a hoarse cough. "Hello?" Warmth was dripping down his left cheek and when he reached up, he could feel his hair around the area felt damp. Great. Head-wounds always complicated things. When he licked his lips, he could taste copper as well as the thick dust. "John. I guess you can't hear me."

He couldn't tell if his eyes were open or shut, it was so dark. Part of him thought about Alan, still waiting on the surface after taking Maya and her friends to the nearest hospital. Would John break the news to him first, or to Scott? And _god_ , Gordon. Gordon, who he'd spoken to about letting Alan co-pilot because the guy may seem full of jokes and self-confidence all the time, but he was a lot more than that, and the idea that he was being replaced had crossed the aquanaut's mind more than once. There was a cruel irony in that, Virgil thought in a panicked laugh, because Gordon was going to be replacing him. God. He had to get out of here.

"If you can, then sorry. I'm so _s-sorry._ " His wrist throbbed, and he dug his nails into his palms to focus. "This is…I'm really fucking scared, alright? And I want to get out of here, but if I don't, then you've got to promise me that you won't blame yourselves. Alan and Scott especially."

He took a shuddering breath. "You should come down from '5 more. We miss you, more than you know. And talk to Gordon. He'll pretend he's fine, but he really won't be." Another rockfall crashed to the ground. He sneezed, wincing as it jogged his wrist. "I'm not giving up, I just…well. I love you all." He tilted his head back to lean against the cave-side, thinking back to the earlier conversation with a weak smile. "And don't let Alan paint '2 orange, whatever you do."

The sound of distant thunder filtered through the darkness, accompanied by the shaking of the rocks around him again. He kept his eyes closed and tried to think of anything but the stones tumbling down from the ceiling.

* * *

Alan dropped his book to the floor with a satisfied sigh, looping his arms around the back of the co-pilot's seat as he stretched. The novel had actually been entertaining (not that he would ever admit this to John), and he'd lost track of time, but the amber tint to the skies above the horizon suggested that sundown was not far off. Which, he thought, with a sudden sense of nervousness, was concerning given when he'd dropped Maya and her companions off at the nearest hospital, the sun had still been high in the sky.

Jolting upright, he realised with a rush of horror that he still hadn't taken the radio off mute. Hastily jabbing at the hologram with one finger, he leant forwards in his seat. He couldn't see any signs of movement below. Virgil should have made his way out of the mine by now, even if he was taking the long way around.

"John?" Alan asked when there came no immediate call. The hologram sprang into life as his brother appeared, with what appeared to be a look of panic (this immediately made Alan even more worried, because John was the brother who was most in control of his emotions) on his face.

"Where have you been?"

Alan dropped his gaze to the discarded book. "Waiting. Reading."

John stared at him. "You never, _never_ , have the radio on mute when you're out on rescue. For God's sake Alan, we've taught you this."

"What's happened?" Alan cut in, noting the tension in his sibling's shoulders. "Is Virgil alright?"

"There was another aftershock and it brought the rocks down. Virgil was trapped in this section, here," John pressed on one of the hologram images, highlighting it. Alan tapped to zoom in, paling as he realised the consequences.

"Is he okay?"

"I don't know." John clawed his fingers through his hair. "I lost contact with him ten minutes ago."

"Oh," Alan said, in a small voice. If only he had turned the radio off mute before that…

"Don't do that to yourself." John, ever the mind-reader, noted his expression and was quick to stop that train of thoughts in its tracks. "I've been scanning the mine to try and locate another exit but the rocks have fallen too far down and I can't find a way to get him out of it without physically taking the top half off, which, obviously, is impossible."

"Why?" All nervous energy and determination, Alan swung himself over the edge of his seat, bounding to the pilot's chair without a second thought.

"Because, while you're a great pilot, you're not experienced enough. One wrong move handling that main rock and you'll send the rest crashing down on top of him. It's too difficult a manoeuvre, Alan, you can't do it."

Alan glared at him. "Don't tell me what I can and can't do."

John's eyes widened in realisation. "Alan-" He snapped as the younger Tracy hit the mute button once more.

"Sorry." Alan muttered as he closed his fingers around the throttle. "But I don't have time to argue with you." With that, he pushed forwards and with a thunderous roar, the colossal aircraft rose into the air.

Thunderbird 2, he discovered, was a lot different to fly in real life than on the simulators (which given they were created by Brains, was a surprise). Something which he had learnt the first time he'd flown '3, was that the Thunderbirds weren't like normal aircraft; there was something tangible and alive about them. '2 was no exception, purring beneath his tight grip on the controls as her powerful engines whipped up the dust below, clouding the previously clear view until the VTOLs propelled them above the small sandstorm the ship had created. Above the horizon, the warm glow of sunset lights filled the cockpit as Alan swung the Thunderbird around so that her nose pointed towards the jagged rocky outcrop a few metres below.

"Now for the hard part," he commented, hunching his shoulders as he leant even further forwards in concentration. The holographic display in front of him highlighted the area of rock that needed to be removed and, with a deep breath, he reached up to flick the switch that would enable the laser cutter. While he was well within his comfort zone using a laser, that was, admittedly, only in space and it was on a _much_ smaller scale. Thunderbird 2's focussed beam was many times more powerful and less precise, especially when he had next to none experience. The stakes were high, as well, he thought with a rush of fear for his trapped brother below. This was the one thing he _could not_ mess up.

"Dammit." His palms were sweating, and he resisted the urge to drag off his gloves. Thunderbird 2 hovered over the collapsed mine shaft, her engines complaining at the sudden updrafts. With a sudden feeling of overwhelming panic, he hit the unmute button on John's hologram, which had reappeared as soon as he'd shifted all engine power to the VTOLs.

"You're doing great."

"What if I-"

"You won't."

"It's _Virgil._ Not just another trapped kid or miner."

John refrained from commenting that Alan himself, was just a kid, and instead fixed his gaze on his younger brother. "I trust you. We all do. I was wrong. You can do this."

Alan let the reassurance wash over him in a comforting wave. "Okay," he replied breathlessly.

"Not to hurry you or anything, but he's running out of space." _And oxygen_ , John mentally added, biting at his lower lip nervously. _Come on, Alan. Please._ Not for the first time, he resented being stuck up in space. He loved Thunderbird 5, and EOS, but nothing could help him with the paralysing helplessness that he faced every time one of his brothers was in trouble.

"Right. Let's do this."

With narrowed eyes, Alan clenched his fists around the controls, gently lowering '2 through the air to line up the laser with the bulk of rock in front of the aircraft. With every hiss of the red glare as the laser ate through the stone, he held his breath. "Just a little bit further…"

Observing him silently, John checked on the readouts of oxygen from the cave below. They were cutting it close – too close. Scott's image flickered into being to his left.

"I'm two minutes out. How is he?"

"Alan's handling it."

Scott's grip tightened on the controls of his Thunderbird. "And?"

"And Alan's got this. You've gotta trust him. We'll get Virgil back. He still has five minutes of oxygen left."

Meanwhile, thousands of miles below the satellite, Alan eased the laser away from the rock, locking in on the unsecured rock with the grapple ropes. This was the riskiest part of the entire operation, and he gingerly increased the pressure on the throttle an inch at a time. Thunderbird 2, ever faithful, rose into the air smoothly, responding to his every movement without a hitch. The cables held firm to the massive rock below, exposing the partially flattened cave underneath and Alan flung himself out of the open pod doors below. The wind buffeted against his uniform and he twisted in the air like a cat, working on instinct as he squinted, taking the shot. His grapple connected with the underside of '2's hulk with a soft _snick_ , and his descent slowed instantly.

" _Virgil_!"

Alan hit the ground with a muffled thud, catching his balance, bracing one hand against the rock pile he'd landed on. A nagging feeling at the back of his mind made him glance down and he felt as though the breath had been knocked out of him at the sight of his glove glistening with fresh blood.

"Alan?" John's voice was tense with worry. "Have you found him?"

"Not yet," he whispered in a choked voice, struggling over the rubble towards the back of the cave, where the terrible scarlet trail led. Ruffled dark hair and deep blue uniform were just about visible under the small pile of debris that had been knocked aside when he'd lifted the main rock from the surface. "Virgil!" He dropped to his knees amongst the rocks, scrabbling at the stones frantically. "John, can you get a read on his vitals yet?" There was a deafening silence from the audio link. " _John_."

"Working on it."

Alan tugged his middle brother towards him, clawing his gloves off his hands to feel for injuries. No helmet made for a strong chance of a head-wound, and Alan had witnessed the frankly terrifying affects of those before. His palms came away sticky with blood and he tracked his gaze up to the still sluggishly bleeding cut.

"Shit."

John's breath caught audibly. "What?"

"Head injury."

"Bad?"

Alan shook his head, blinking back panicked tears. "No. I mean, I don't think so? I don't know, dammit…" The familiar thunder of '1's engines sounded from next to '2 but he couldn't quite comprehend what that meant, still too focussed on the motionless form in front of him.

"Okay, scan complete. Fractured wrist and mild concussion, which given he's not wearing a helmet is fu-…really damn lucky. Multiple lacerations and bruising, as well. But no internal bleeding, and his breathing is a little slow but even."

Alan sank back on his heels. "So, he's alright?"

John let out a long breath. "Yes."

The sounds of stumbling footsteps as the rocks gave way underfoot came from behind him, and Alan snuck a look over his shoulder to catch sight of Scott. One hand landed on his shoulder, lightly squeezing in a comforting grip, before the eldest Tracy brother knelt down, gently tugging Virgil towards him.

Virgil blearily opened his eyes, wincing at the bright light. "H-hey, you made it."

Scott grinned, relief glimmering in his sky-blue gaze. "This was all Alan."

"He fl-flew Two?"

"Yeah." Alan rubbed at his eyes, relief crashing down on him in the form of tears. He shuffled closer so that his knee brushed his brother's leg. "Sorry about that."

Virgil dropped his head to lean against Scott's chest with a thud. "No." He uttered with pure conviction. "You did good, Alan." He blinked across at his blond brother. "Thank you."

Alan all but launched himself across the gap to collide with the injured pilot, wrapping his arms around Virgil in a tight hug, mindful of his injured wrist. Scott took a deep breath, resting his chin on the ruffled dark head below him.

"You're okay," he whispered to himself. "You're both okay."

Virgil let out a pained laugh. "Hey Allie? How about we go h-home now?"

"Hell yeah."

"You want to fly One?"

Virgil frowned up at his older brother. "Nah, the kid's earnt flying rights."

"Virg-"

"Alan flies Two."

Scott met Alan's gaze with a questioning look. "You up for that?"

Alan took a shaky breath and nodded. "Always."

The flight back to Tracy Island was spent with Virgil asleep in the tipped back co-pilot's seat, the white bandage across his temple a stark contrast to his dark hair. Alan guided Thunderbird 2 into the hanger with all the ease and grace of an experienced pilot (which he technically was, just not in '2) and dropped his hands from the controls. With Scott's help, a still-sleeping Virgil was deposited in the infirmary where Brains was waiting.

Alan emerged an hour later from his shower to find Gordon sitting propped up against the wall opposite his door. The red-head was dozing, his head cushioned on one shoulder and with an exasperated sigh, Alan leant down to shake him awake.

"Huh?"

Alan raised a brow. "What are you even doing down there?" He held out a hand to help his brother up and Gordon grabbed it, clicking his back as he climbed to his feet.

"Waiting for you. Scott told me what happened earlier, before Grandma kicked him out. She won't let him see Virgil until he's had a shower."

Alan bit back a laugh before sobering at the memory of not being able to contact his brother, and then finding him, unsure as to whether he were even alive…

Gordon's arm swung round his shoulders. "So, I normally don't say stuff like this, that's down to the smother-twins, _but_ … that would have been me out there, in your place, if Virgil hadn't kept you as his co-pilot for the past month."

"Yeah. I know." Alan stared down at the floor, noting the damp footprints Gordon was leaving in their wake (was it physically possible for the family fish to go an evening without swimming?).

"Hey, don't look so sad." Gordon stared ahead at the approaching infirmary doors, where a tall blond was lounging in a chair, scrolling through a tablet of world alerts. "Actually, I was gonna say well done."

"Seriously?"

"Jeez, Al, _obviously_. I've flown Two many more times than you, but I don't think I could've pulled that off." Alan shot him a doubtful look and Gordon sighed. "I'm being serious. Which is weird. I don't like it. I'm gonna have to throw John in the pool or something to feel better again."

John crossed one ankle over the other, shuffled in his chair and fixed Gordon with the deadliest warning stare he could muster. "Don't you dare."

Alan grinned, and Gordon gave a joyous yell, practically bouncing on his feet. "There you go."

"What?" Alan frowned at him in confusion.

"You weren't smiling. It was just… _wrong._ " Gordon shrugged and across the hall, John ducked his head to hide his smile. "Anyway, point is, you were _awesome_ out there." He clapped his hands together. "Wanna go make fun of the patient?"

Alan sniggered. " _Always._ "

"Johnny, you coming?"

"Grandma gave me orders to keep Scott out unless he's showered." John raised his tablet. "I'm on guard duty."

"Fun times. C'mon short stuff, let's go."

Alan elbowed him in the ribs, mock outrage playing on his face. "You're one to talk."

"It's _genetics_ , dammit Alan."

The doors closed behind the two with a hiss, and John dropped the tablet into his lap. The entire day had been stressful, and he still couldn't get the panic to fully leave him. Staring down at the tablet in front of him, his finger hovered over the message Virgil had attempted to send to him, when stuck in the cave. It had only come through now, several hours later, and after listening to it, John was desperately hoping his brother would wake up soon, even if just so he could hug him.

Scott appeared from around the corner.

"Did you shower?"

Scott, with water dripping from his hair, gave him an unimpressed look. "Obviously."

"About Alan-"

Scott sighed. "Can we talk about this later?"

"He was _really_ good out there, Scott."

"Soon."

John stood up, leaving his tablet on the chair. "He flies '3 most of the time anyway, just make it official already."

"John. Leave it." Scott gave a pointed look towards the doors. "Can we focus on getting Virg back on his feet before giving Alan free reign over space?"

John clamped a hand to his brother's shoulder, with a warm smile. "Sure."

* * *

 ** _So, how was that? Can anyone guess which Thunderbird is up next?_**

 ** _Leave a review?_**

 ** _\- Kat x_**


	3. Thunderbird Four

**_Sorry guys, this was supposed to be up last weekend, but I messed up on dates. Long story short, I was stuck with no internet on a camping expedition (Duke of Edinburgh to all of my English readers). Still, I'm making it up to you (hopefully) by giving you an extra long chapter._**

 ** _Also, sorry D C JoKeR H S - more angst headed your way in this chapter ;) Really, thank you to all of you who've reviewed so far, I really appreciate it._**

 ** _Warnings - near drowning experience, several f-bombs_**

* * *

 _Thunderbird 4_

Going on rescues with Gordon was always a fun experience; depending on your definition of the word _fun_. Alan didn't find himself on jobs that required his water-loving brother's expertise very often, and when he did it was usually in the company of Virgil (minus the occasional space rescue which called for a certain deep-sea submersible). Their middle brother's presence usually prevented any squabbling on the flights to-and-from the danger zone, and when they were in the throes of a rescue, professionalism came first over any sibling rivalry.

Alan personally wondered how Virgil was still mentally sane given he had Gordon as a co-pilot. Not that the youngest Tracy didn't get along well with his brother (they were the Terrible Two, _of course_ they got along), but there were only so many episodes of _Into the Unknown_ that he could tolerate in one sitting. Also, the wrappers. No one liked ration bars, _no one_ , apart from, apparently, Gordon. Alan swore that it was his brother's personal goal to fill up either his own Thunderbird or '3's cockpit with the wrappers within a single rescue (and given the time it had taken for the last _Moon Oberon_ rescue, he had come very close).

Still, as the second youngest, (and also given Alan had been the only one still in school out of the family when the hydrofoil accident had occurred), Gordon had spent most of his time around Alan throughout their childhood, with Virgil gravitating towards the elder of their siblings, which had resulted in the two having a close bond which manifested itself in friendly banter and pranks. Gordon didn't exactly _do_ deep talks; that was more John's forte (although the aquanaut had been known to have his moments).

Given all of this, it was no surprise to John when he called to find Alan sprawled across the carpet, with Gordon pinning him down, a pillow raised above his head in preparation to strike. Alan's own pillow lay just out of reach and instead he was investing all of his strength into trying to free himself (he was failing miserably – Gordon may not have his older brothers' height, but he had the upper body strength of an Olympic swimmer). Virgil was sat on the opposite sofa, a book in his hands, ignoring the commotion that was rolling towards his feet (Alan had remembered his brother was ticklish and was steadily gaining the upper-hand).

John's hologram form hovered above the table unnoticed for a good minute before he gave a meaningful cough. "International Rescue, we have a situation."

With his arms pinned to the floor either side of him, Gordon let out a breathless gasp between hysterical laughter. "Yeah, no kidding."

Alan full on sniggered, ruffled blond hair falling into his eyes as he leaned forwards. With a frantic yelp, Gordon twisted in a movement that Kayo would have been proud of, pressing himself face-down into the carpet in an attempt to hide his most ticklish spot.

"What's the situation?"

"Alan's gonna _kill_ me is the situation!" Gordon hollered from the floor, breaking into laughter as Alan managed to dig his fingers through the carpet to reach his ribs. "Virgil, _help_!"

Virgil ignored them. "John?"

"An Ocean Liner, the _Albatross_ , was on a cruise across the Atlantic, en-route to South Africa, when they ran into bad weather. The captain thought they could make it through, but a rogue wave caused the ship to list to one side, at which point one of the containers in the cargo section managed to get loose and tore a hole in the starboard side of the ship. They're still stuck in the midst of the storm, and they're taking on water – _fast_."

"How many people?" Virgil lifted his feet onto the sofa to avoid being hit by Gordon's flailing arms.

"The majority have already been evacuated, but some are still trapped on the lower levels. I'll explain more once you're in the air, but there are twelve still on board, including the captain."

"Right. See you in the skies."

"FAB." John's hologram vanished, and Virgil turned his attention to the pair still wrestling on the floor. Gordon had reached his pillow and now had the advantage, leaving Alan to change tactics.

"Guys cut it out. We've got people to save." Already striding across to the rocket painting on the wall, Virgil didn't wait for a reply. "Alan, you too."

With a final smack of the pillow to his brother's shoulder, Gordon headed for the lift down to the hanger (he still maintained it wasn't fair how the others got awesome rides down to their ships, whereas he was stuck with an admittedly very fast lift – on the other hand, he hated rollercoasters, so he wasn't complaining _too_ much). Alan instinctively made for the couch which would take him to '3's hanger before realising and changing direction, breaking into a jog to catch up with Gordon.

Virgil was already running Thunderbird 2 through her pre-flight checks when they entered the giant aircraft. Gordon dived into his chair with well-practised ease, Alan sidling across to his own with significantly less speed. John's hologram was already projected above the controls, waiting patiently for them to take off before beginning his explanation.

Alan slid down in his chair, crossing one ankle over the other. Despite the sea-storm they would be flying into, this sounded like it was going to be a relatively simple rescue and he began mentally jotting down ideas of how to beat Gordon in the (to be resumed) pillow fight. Virgil gradually eased '2 out of her hanger, and bright light flooded into the cockpit. In the co-pilot's seat, Gordon made a disgruntled comment and Virgil lightly shoved his shoulder, the grin playing at his features evidence that this was a familiar routine.

With a soft whine from her engines, Thunderbird 2 glided into the air, warm sun rays reflecting off her green hull to cast a golden glow across the cockpit. Alan closed his eyes, revelling in the familiar and still awe-inspiring feeling (Thunderbird 3 was his favourite, but he wasn't about to deny that '2 was _awesome_ ). In front of him, Gordon shuffled in his seat, whispering in mock-astonishment; "Thunderbirds are _go_."

Virgil regarded him with a raised brow. "Really? Every time?"

"Yup." Gordon made to lift his legs onto the dashboard in front of him, earning himself a slap to the ankle as a response. Grumbling, he lifted them down, shooting Alan a mischievous look over his shoulder.

"Alright, Thunderbird Five, go ahead." Virgil adjusted the power to '2's engines and sat back expectantly. There was a light speckling of green paint behind his ear (he had a habit of resting paint brushes there when working on a new piece) and Alan debated whether or not to tell him.

"I've been in contact with the _Albatross_ ' captain. She says that there are three people trapped on the bottom deck, with another six on Deck Three. The rest are trapped in their cabins. When the ship started flooding, the emergency systems started up, but they've malfunctioned so the water-tight doors have shut, trapping anyone who hadn't already reached the escape pods and rafts. Those who were evacuated have been taken by the GDF and the Air Search and Rescue teams to the main land but with the deteriorating weather conditions their crafts can't stay out there any longer. It's down to you to get the passengers and captain out before the ship sinks completely."

"FAB. Gordon, you take Thunderbird 4 and try to buy us some time by blocking off the main leaks. Alan, you're with me. We're going to have to cut through those doors. John, can you remote pilot Thunderbird 2 if I attach grapples to the _Albatross_ to help keep her above water?"

"Sure."

"Alright. Gordon?"

"On it." Gordon slid back his seat, heading to the Pod without hesitation. Alan crossed over to take his seat, much to Virgil's amusement. For the next three minutes they fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by John's occasional updates. From the clear skies they were flying through, it was hard to see how there could be any bad weather on the horizon until Virgil began to guide '2 into a descent. The sudden turbulence that hit them was so violent that an alarm chimed through the cockpit. Pressed to his seat by the opposing forces, Alan caught a glimpse of the storm that was causing all the problems.

Made up of a large bulk of ominous dark clouds, the deep mass sparked with forked lightning. It spread across the sky, reaching up above the approaching Thunderbird, and stretched across to either side. Deep rumbles echoed up from where the lightning was hitting the sea below. Another jolt of turbulence had the safety harness cutting into his chest uncomfortably, and Alan couldn't hold back his uneasy tapping against the seat.

Gordon's hologram flickered into life. "Virg, we've talked about this. You know I hate rollercoasters." The pinched look to his expression revealed that despite his joking tone, he was actually unsure about the situation.

Virgil didn't reply. Alan glanced across to catch sight of his brother's white-knuckled grip on the controls and winced. "This is gonna get worse before it gets better, isn't it?"

Virgil didn't look at him. "That's one way of putting it," he answered presently, shoulders hunched with tension. "Right, Gordon, sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Came the somewhat hysterical response, before suddenly the Thunderbird appeared to be falling from the skies. Clouds swept passed the windows in a whirlwind and Alan dug his fingernails into the sides of his seat, unable to catch his breath as familiar sensation of weightlessness overtook him. Next to him, Virgil slammed forwards on the VTOL controls, and the Thunderbird came to a stop, hovering above the ocean, gravity crashing back down on them with a shock.

"Pod door's open."

"Thunderbird Four is go for launch." There was silence for a moment and Alan caught sight of a recognisable yellow shape slipping into the churning waters below. "For the record, I'm disowning you for that."

"Virgil, I don't know what you did but you've avoided the worst of the turbulence." John interjected.

Gordon grinned. "Welcome back to the family."

Rolling his shoulders, Virgil didn't respond for a moment, focusing on locating the _Albatross_ with '2's scanners. The holograms projected above the controls flashed green as the grapples locked onto the battered metal hull below, before the cables connected, tugging the large ship further out of the water. Thunderbird 2's engines whined in protest at the action as Virgil increased the power to the VTOLs.

"John?"

"I have control of Thunderbird Two," the space monitor replied without needing to ask. Alan didn't react; after years of his brothers' creepy seemingly telepathic exchanges, he'd grown used to it. Instead he reached for his helmet, heading for the Pod, Virgil at his heels.

"Ready?"

Alan knocked his helmet with a grin. "When am I not?"

Virgil chuckled. "Fair point." He tapped the screen of his watch. "Open the pod, would you?" The howling of the wind buffeted through the opening door, and Alan was glad for the safety line which prevented him being blown backwards. Virgil disappeared, throwing himself off the overhang with well-practised ease, whereas Alan was more hesitant. Jumping out of Thunderbird 3 was fun and games, due to the lack of gravity, but flinging himself through a storm onto a sinking cruise liner was another story.

He took a deep breath, feeling the onset of the usual adrenaline rush, before rocking forwards on his toes to fall from the platform. For a few seconds, he was free-falling, and then the winds hit him. The rope slashed across his chest sending his trajectory too far left and he twisted in the air, landing on all fours like a cat. Scrambling onto his feet, he kept low to the deck as the driving rain and gale attempted to drag him into the stormy seas to either side.

His watch lit up with a scan of the ship, the nearest entrance highlighted in the red glow of his uniform sash. Following the makeshift map, he made quick work of the fire-exit door, ducking out of the rain in relief. The International Rescue symbol on his sash illuminated with an incoming call.

"I've found the captain. She's shaken up, but unharmed, but with the debris blocking the doorway it's going to take me a while." Virgil's voice seemed unconcerned, but there was an underlying tension to his voice as the pitch of '2's engines increased in the background.

"Working on plugging some of the holes right now." Gordon chimed in, running a hand through his ruffled hair. The currents were particularly strong, not helped by the storm above and the forces created by the _Albatross'_ struggling engines. "How's the rest of the evacuation going?"

With his back pressed to the wall, Alan made his way down the steps gingerly. Sea water which had flooded in from over the sides of the deck above and the driving rain had caused the staircase to become slippery and it seemed as though his feet were about fly out from under him at any second. When Virgil didn't reply, he took the initiative. "Heading down to the lower decks now."

"I've got the captain." Virgil announced suddenly. "She's refusing to leave until all the passengers are safe." There was a hint of exasperation in his voice and Alan fought back a laugh. Gordon had no such qualms, a loud snigger sounding over the radio. Ignoring them both, Alan turned, jogging down the corridor until he reached the next set of steps. As he reached the final flight of stairs, the lights flickered ominously before giving up entirely, plunging the stairwell and the rest of the ship into darkness.

Alan held a hand up in front of his face. Other than the glow of his sash, where the comms link was still open, he couldn't see a thing. "Uh, guys?"

"Engines have cut out." John explained after a brief moment of silence. "Without the engines, the Albatross is losing all power, which also means it's sinking faster."

"It's always bad news with you, Johnny, isn't it?" Gordon sighed, observing the floundering ship in the murky waters in front of him.

"Without those engines, Thunderbird 2 is the only thing standing between the _Albatross_ and the ocean. Taking into account the strain placed on the VTOLs by the storm as well, we'll burn out our engines before we can get everyone off."

Alan froze, one foot hovering above where he estimated the next step should be. "So, we're going to sink?"

"Unless we can get those engines back up and running?" Virgil snapped one of his glowsticks, illuminating the cabin in front of him. "Yes. John, you got anything?"

"You want the good news or the bad news?"

"See?" Gordon whined. "It's always bad news."

John didn't say a word, but Alan could imagine the unimpressed stare that was directed towards Gordon's hologram. He didn't look down to check, too focused on the task of reaching the lower deck.

"There is a way to restart the engines. The bad news is that it's in the control room which is at the opposite end of the ship to the trapped passengers."

"And we don't have time to reach both," Virgil finished.

Alan made for the next step, only for his feet to slip out from under him, sending him hurtling into the corridor below. Bracing himself for the impact, instead he found himself plummeting into freezing water that lapped at his waist. Even through the filter on his helmet, he could taste salt on his lips. Sea water sloshed against the sides of the passageway and with a frustrated growl, Alan slapped at his watch. His damp gloves left water droplets scattered across the cold surface but after a second the glaring beam of the inbuilt flashlight reflected about the corridor.

"Alan?" Virgil's voice, thick with concern, met his ears as he struggled through the water. Despite Gordon's best efforts, seawater was still sluggishly pouring through the collapsing panels along the side of the _Albatross_. It was getting harder to walk through with every minute and he felt a rush of fear for the state of the trapped passengers below.

"I'm okay. The water's a lot higher than I was expecting though."

"Thunderbird Two's engines are really struggling to hold us above the water," Virgil admitted.

"Okay, so I'll sort it. John, send the coordinates to my watch and I'll swim from Four. There's a panel at the back which I can't get close enough to secure; that's my entrance."

"Gordon."

"Virg, it'll be _fine_. It's me."

There was a low chuckle. "That's why I'm worried."

"You worry too much."

With a nervous glance down at his watch, Alan left his brothers to it and set his sights on the door jammed at the end of the hallway. He had to trust Gordon to do his job. But as he started work with his laser-cutter, he couldn't banish the nagging sensation at the back of his mind that something was wrong.

* * *

Gordon was more at ease in the water than he was on land. While he'd been nervous about swimming again following his hydrofoil accident (drowning did that to a guy), he respected the sea and in return Neptune hadn't let him down yet. Still, ducking the twisted pieces of metal that gave way under the pressure and were flung towards him, he was beginning to suspect this mission was going to be a lot harder than first expected.

The _Albatross_ was one of the newer designs of ocean liners, but the fatal flaw that remained was the sheer size of the ship. Even propelled through the waters by the specially designed exo-suit, it took Gordon a good four minutes to reach the central back panel. A quick check with the holograms projected from his watch confirmed that he was at the right location. Lightly pressing one hand to the panel to keep himself in place (the currents were causing havoc), he began cutting through. Water around the laser hissed angrily at the sudden influx of heat, but the red beam steadily sliced through the metal like a knife through butter. Swimming back a stroke or two, Gordon launched himself through the dark water at the panel, gaining enough momentum to send both himself and the panel crashing through the newly made gap.

"John? Can you read me?"

"FAB, Four."

"I'm in. You got a map for me?"

"Obviously." No sooner had John spoke did the scan of the ship appear in place of the previous hologram. Gordon kicked off from one foot pressed to the floor, gliding through the water. The route to the control room was glowing a soft amber as opposed to the rest of the blue hologram and it took mere minutes for him to reach it. A foreboding shudder ran through the ship, the metal of the door trembling under his fingertips. Fighting the urge to look over his shoulder as something sent a new shockwave flooding through the water he was floating in, Gordon pushed at the door. Despite shifting a fraction to the left, it remained steadfast.

"Gordon, not to hurry you or anything…"

"Yeah, yeah, Virg." He glared at the door, frustration rushing through him. "I'm _working on it._ " Pushing himself off of the far wall, he rammed his shoulder into the obstinate metal in front of him. Instantly, pain ignited in his upper arm, but the door finally gave way, colliding with the wall inside the room, sending a dull thud through the water. Diving down, Gordon swam through the doorway, twisting to survey the flooded corridor behind him.

The room in front of him was only partially flooded; mainly due to the fact it was taller, with the ceiling reaching up to what he guessed was easily two decks higher. A mass of controls and wires stood tangled across the far wall and he grimaced.

"Yeesh. This is worse than Alan's room."

"You're one to talk," John commented, frowning at the scans of the control room that appeared in front of him.

"Hey! My room's not _that_ bad."

"You're right. It's _terrible_."

Gordon laughed, wading through the water to reach the controls. Schooling his expression back into that of a professional, he reminded himself of the rescue at hand. "Uh, Brains?" One of the wires sparked. "A little help here?"

"Certainly." Brains' hologram blinked into being, pushing the rim of his blue glasses higher up his nose, shoulders tensing in concentration. "You're going to have to be c-careful not to move the wrong g-green wire. There are two."

"Right. And if I move the wrong one?"

"You'll be el-electrocuted."

Gordon raised a brow at the hologram. Brains had a surprisingly dark sense of humour and was as good as John at deadpanning things. This was one of the many times where Gordon couldn't tell if he was being serious or not. Knowing Brains, he thought to himself, he probably was being serious. Either way, given he was chest deep in freezing sea water, he wasn't going to risk it.

Another tremor ran through the ship. Water splashed against the far wall, sending ripples across the surface. The wires sparked again. Gordon narrowed his eyes in determination, diving forwards to cut through the water in a single movement, resurfacing directly in front of the main panel. "I'm in position. Tell me what to do, Brains."

As the resident genius on Tracy Island talked the aquanaut through the process, John turned his concentration back to the readouts from Thunderbird 2 which were rapidly increasing in number. EOS' lights were dimmed in concentration, but the amber glow about the holograms promised nothing good.

"What've we got?"

"With the current strength of the storm, the fuel cells will burn themselves out before everyone can be evacuated."

" _Great_." With sarcasm still evident in his voice, John tapped on Virgil's radio link. "Two, we have a problem."

Virgil, now accompanied by the group of passengers who previously had been trapped, appeared on his screen. With his helmet secured on the head of a young twenty-something man (the passenger in question suffered from asthma, and with no inhalers in sight Virgil had settled for giving him the clean supply of oxygen provided by the helmet), the middle Tracy looked somewhat like a drowned rat, with a graze along his chin and drenched hair plastered to his forehead.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't keep Thunderbird Two in position. She can't hold the _Albatross_ above water and remain steady in this weather at the same time."

Conscious of the people behind him, Virgil settled for a long sigh instead of the curse that came to mind. "Alan?" He tapped the comms link on his sash, lighting up another glow stick in the other hand. "I'm going to take these people in Two to the mainland and come back for you. How quickly can you reach the top deck with your passengers?"

Alan frowned. "Five minutes, tops. We're already on our way up. Can you hold fire on lift off?"

"FAB. That leaves one unaccounted for."

"I've located him with the thermal scanners," John interjected. "Sending you the coordinates now."

"We still have the issue of how fast we're sinking." Virgil lowered his voice as the passengers behind him exchanged concerned glances. "Without those engines and Thunderbird Two, we have no chance of getting that final passenger out."

"I'm almost finished with the engines." Gordon reported. Brains' voice appeared across the radio link, as if on cue.

"You will s-still need someone on the bridge to restart the engines once Gordon has c-configured them."

Virgil all but growled. "Can't John do that remotely?" He cast an anxious look across the open deck to where Thunderbird 2's engines increased in pitch.

"Negative. It has to be someone on board the ship."

Alan appeared at the end of the corridor, several bedraggled passengers at his heels. "You take these guys, I'll head up to the bridge. Then you can head back, pick up the final passenger and me, while Gordon makes his way back to Four. Easy."

Virgil let out a rushed breath. "Alright." He clapped a hand to his younger brother's shoulder, shooting him a warm smile, before beckoning to the group of terrified people behind them. "Alright, guys, let's get out of here."

* * *

Gordon was only partially listening in to the conversation between his brothers, but he felt the ship suddenly plummet deeper. Water rushed up, spilling over his shoulders, crackling at the exposed wiring and paint-slicked controls which his fingers slipped over.

"And you've done it. You can p-pull the leaver now, Gordon."

"Here's hoping this works. Alan, you ready?"

"FAB."

With a grin, Gordon slammed his hand down on the leaver. It was stiff with age, and from where the metal was already reacting with the hostile salt water submerging it. With a low rumble, in time with Alan's actions in the wheel room above, the engines started with a deafening roar that shook the entire ship. Taken by surprise, Gordon was swept to the far wall, pinned in place by the sudden current. With the new found power, the _Albatross_ (which had previously been listing to the side), lurched upright and backwards, dipping the stern further under water. As a result, the already weakened structure of the back-end of the ship gave way under the new pressure.

Eyes widening in horror, Gordon realised what was about to happen, and made a frantic leap for the door. Debris came hurtling down, catching at his legs, spinning him upside down. Something crashed into his helmet and Gordon flung his arms out, kicking frantically, sucking in a panicked gulp of air as water rushed in through the shattered side of his helmet, flooding over his nose and mouth. Everything went dark, and all he could feel was the freezing water, hungry and dangerous, tossing and turning. Something was pinning his legs down, and with a furious kick he managed to pull himself free, struggling through the water before giving into his instincts, finally reaching the surface where he choked in air. The gap between the water and the ceiling was rapidly closing and pressing one hand to the panels above, Gordon struggled not to panic.

"Alan!"

"Yeah?" Noting the frantic tone to his brother's voice, Alan gave him his full attention. "Gordo? What's wrong?"

Gordon caught sight of the blocked exit and tore his broken helmet free, letting it splash into the dark waters around him. It bobbed up again, the yellow paintwork a stark contrast to the choking depths of the water.

"Gordon?"

"I'm stuck."

Alan choked on his inhale. "W-what?"

"The deck above gave way and I'm trapped in the control room."

"Laser?"

"Used up the final cell getting in here."

Alan let out a shuddering breath. "Okay." There was a beat of silence that in reality was only a few seconds long but seemed like hours to Gordon. "We'll think of something."

Gordon didn't reply, instead mentally going through his training. Floating took up less energy than treading water, but with the churning water flooding the ship threatening to drag him under the surface at any given moment, he had no choice. On the plus side, he thought somewhat hysterically, he wasn't about to imminently die of hypothermia; the in-built heater in his suit sent heat rushing over his shoulders and down his back, although he was losing the feeling in the tips of his fingers where his gloves ended at the knuckles to allow better control of Thunderbird 4 (he loved '4, don't get him wrong, but when they were on northern rescues and Virgil had full length gloves as opposed to his own, he sometimes wished the sub wasn't so responsive). His soaking hair sent rivulets of water trickling down his neck, gathering in a pool at the top of his diving-suit.

"John?" Alan's voice echoed through the radio in his sash. "Tell me you've got an idea."

"Virgil's still seven minutes out."

Right. Seven minutes. Gordon surveyed the gap between the floodwater and the ceiling and fought back the shiver that ran down his spine. Stupid cruise liners in the middle of the ocean. Why couldn't it have been a river cruise? Seven minutes was too long.

"I haven't got enough air."

Alan, who'd been going on about how ' _seven minutes is nothing, you'll be fine'_ , fell silent. "Shit."

Gordon let out a strangled laugh. Bringing his hands up to his face to scrape his hair out of his eyes, he flinched at how cold his fingers felt. It just _had_ to be the Atlantic, didn't it? "Alan, where are you?" His voice sounded different, disembodied almost. He licked his lips, and hunched his shoulders, wishing he could turn up the heater.

"On my way to your location."

"Decks are flooding too quick." He kicked out, grabbing at the slippery ceiling panels above him. His fingers slid off helplessly, sending him crashing back into the water. The sudden freezing liquid seeping through the top of his suit sent the air rushing out of him and for a heart-stopping moment, he couldn't breathe.

" _Gordon_!"

"Yeah, yeah, present sir." Still wheezing, he launched himself across the surface of the water, aiming for the far corner next to the control panel. "You've gotta get to the top deck, Allie."

"What? I'm not leaving you."

"And I'm not letting you drown on my watch. Scott would drag me back on a Ouija board and kick my ass." Not his best joke, admittedly, but it did the job as Alan's nervous laugh resounded through the comms link. Pressing his palms to the panel in front of him, tearing off his gloves so that he could ground himself better, he concentrated on taking even breaths. He could feel the edges of panic creeping in, threatening to overwhelm the adrenaline rush, and all training stated that the first rule of rescues was not to panic. It was just a shame, he thought, digging his nails into his clenched fists, that his body apparently wasn't listening to that line, because _yep,_ he was _panicking_ pretty damn _bad_.

"Gordon. Your heart rate is too high."

He was tempted to make a sarcastic remark to that one. "Yeah, John, _thanks_ for that, I really hadn't noticed given the entire _drowning_ thing I've got going on here."

Alan made a muffled noise of horror. John, to give credit where it was due, didn't react. "You know the techniques. Use them. Calm down. We're getting you out."

 _You know the techniques._ It was the first mention any of them had made so far to the hydrofoil incident, but the knowledge that he'd almost drowned before, and been awake for the experience was not escaping any of their notice. Gordon pressed his forehead to the cold metal and began counting. _Forwards. Backwards. Even. Odd._

The water around his hands was cloudy with blood. Uncurling his fists revealed that his nails had dug into his palms, leaving scarlet crescent moons that were seeping into the water. Biting back a curse, he attempted to cling onto the wall in front of him, inhaling sharply.

"Thunderbird Two is too far out. Alan can't reach me without diving equipment. I'm out of laser cutters. Johnny, what do I _do_?" Gordon hadn't meant for the desperation to slink into his voice, but the water was gliding over his shoulders. It was no secret that drowning was the top of his worst-ways-to-die list.

"Alan's on the top deck. We're on a private link." John, ever perceptive, spoke softly, monitoring his younger brother's vitals with concern. Talk about being smacked in the face with your worst fears. He ran a hand through his hair, silently urging Virgil to fly faster.

"John."

"Yes?"

Gordon closed his eyes. " _Johnny_."

For once, John didn't protest the nickname. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

"I don't wanna _die_." Gordon's voice broke on the final word. He sucked in a shuddering breath, furiously blinking back tears. " _Please._ "

"You're not going to."

"It's cold."

"Gords." For the first time in a long while, John found himself lost for words. "Don't talk like that. Don't talk like you're giving up."

"M'scared." The glow that had been illuminating the water where he was clinging to the wall was finally extinguished as the last power in the controls died. Darkness immersed him, thick and choking. All he could hear was the water splashing against the walls and his outstretched arms, combined with the groaning of the ship as the _Albatross_ threatened to give out under the pressure. Unable to catch his breath, Gordon lost his grip on the wall, keeling back as something brushed against his ankle. In the inky blackness, he couldn't see a thing. Lashing out, he couldn't find the wall, and thrashing in the water, a rush of panic flooded over him. "John-" With a heavy groan, the engines once again gave out under the lack of power. Under the new strain, the _Albatross_ tilted forwards, sending water rushing over his head. Unable to find the surface, Gordon struggled in the water, kicking wildly.

"Four. Gordon. _Gordon._ " John's voice became a blur in his head as he floundered in the water, unable to tell which way was up or down. His chest burnt, aching with the need for oxygen. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, cold water flooding down the back of his suit, overcoming the heater in seconds, without the protection of the helmet. Something sharped raked across his side and he flinched away, twisting in the water. It took all of his control not to take a breath, but the desire for air was becoming uncontrollable. "Alan's coming, hold on, _Gordy, please…"_

The fierce burning down his side was matched only by the burning in his lungs. He was aware of a sudden bright light to the right, before suddenly he was choking on freezing water, agony lighting up across his chest and throat. Someone was screaming his name before he slipped under the darkness once more.

* * *

Alan was on the verge of panicking himself when he heard Gordon's order to head back to the top deck. He'd only ever heard his brother sound that terrified twice before in his life (when their Dad went missing and the other time which they never spoke of). On the plus side, he knew his brother (Gordon was nothing if not a fighter), but on the other hand, with Thunderbird 2 a good seven minutes out, with only five minutes left; the odds were most decidedly _not_ in their favour (why had Kayo forced him to watch Hunger Games again?).

Wandering along the corridor, drifting his hand along the wall, he could feel the minute vibrations trembling through the ship under the sheer pressure of the water flooding into the lower decks. It was stark reminder of how quickly the control room was filling with water. Alan also knew fully well just how freezing said water was; they were in the Atlantic (and he'd watched Titanic before) and even with the heater in his suit, Gordon couldn't last long in temperatures that cold without beginning to suffer from the effects.

Turning on his heels, he headed to the top deck. Despite the aquanaut's orders (and John's confirmation), Alan had been planning to return to the bridge, to see if he could find any ways to help his trapped brother. Now, with the beginnings of a plan forming in his mind, Alan broke into a sprint for the top deck. He hadn't lied to Gordon; he was following orders, but at the same time, there was no way in hell he was about to leave.

Bursting out in the storm came as a shock; with the burning worry about Gordon occupying his thoughts, Alan had forgotten about the gales and deluge outside. The wind caught him, and it took all of his strength to regain his balance and avoid being thrown overboard. Keeping low to the deck, he began the slow crawl to the edge of the ship. It went against every instinct to peer out over the deck in winds this strong, but amongst the rolling waves, he still couldn't see what he was looking for.

"John-"

"Not now Alan."

Alan fought back the wave of hurt that threatened to wash over him at the dismissal. Instead, he remained in a crouch, pressing his gecko-gloves to the deck to prevent being dragged across the floor by the gale, and listened into the comms link. Gordon's bitter words of ' _drowning'_ struck a nerve and he couldn't quite hold back his horrified exclamation; instead of the shout, he let out a muffled squeak. John's hologram blinked into life on his watch, shooting him a reassuring look without speaking. Still, Alan thought, tilting his head back to stare into the darkened skies above, silently wishing to see '2's VTOLs cutting through the clouds (he loved '3, but what would he give to see Thunderbird 2 right now), at least Gordon was still talking.

Amidst words of advice, John held up one finger, before cutting the link. After a beat of silence, Alan realised with a rush of anger that his older brother had prevented him from hearing what was being said and attempted to join the call again. John blocked his attempts instantly, his hologram still muted. Instead of giving into the annoyance and hurt that threatened to overwhelm him, Alan slunk forwards, his stomach pressed to the water-logged deck. Staring down into the seething sea below, he felt a rush of trepidation about what he was about to do. But, as he finally glimpsed '4's bright yellow hull amongst the waves, there was no other way. Gordon was going to be out of time _and_ air by the time Virgil arrived.

He took a deep breath and tapped his helmet. "John? I'm going in." John unmuted himself and stared at him for a second, as though silently judging. "Don't go telling me not to, or I swear-"

"Go for it."

"W-what?" Alan couldn't keep the stammer out of his voice, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

John appeared paler than usual, an uncharacteristic fear in his eyes. "Go. We don't have time." With a nod of confirmation, Alan closed his eyes and dived off the side of the ship.

An entire lifetime of Gordon as the brother closest to his age meant that Alan had spent a lot of his time growing up at a swimming pool or some sort of water source (summer in Kansas meant that the public pools were often packed, so the family would often end up in the river). This had resulted in him learning the proper stance and skills of diving, without hitting the water at the wrong angle. Throughout his childhood, this practise had exasperated his grandmother and father to no ends as he returned from swimming pool at Gordon's heels with new bruises and aching limbs, but since the start up of International Rescue, his diving abilities had come in handy; Gordon may be their aquanaut, but it helped to have another diver at hand if necessary.

This resulted in Alan instinctively knowing how to angle his body in order to cut through the surface of the water without any hinderance. Thunderbird 4 waited, ever faithful, several metres down, buffeted by the currents. With one hand outstretched, Alan fell into his usual swimming strokes, powerful kicks sending him down towards the depths. His fingertips met the familiar yellow (and somewhat scratched; that last rescue had been a _mess_ ) hull, cold metal humming under his touch. Diving down further, his hands gliding over the sub's flank, he reached the airlock, flipping inside and allowing Thunderbird 4 to deposit him in the pilot's seat.

Thunderbird 4's cabin always took some getting used to (given she _was_ the smallest of the Thunderbirds by far) as Alan was used to the open cockpits of '2 and '3. For the first time in a while, he was happy to be the shortest of the family as he reached out for the controls. Stray wrappers skittered about his feet, and he was aware of the water dripping from his suit onto the seat (Gordon was _not_ going to be pleased about that – while the aquanaut's suit was designed to shed water the moment he entered the airlock, Alan's was built for space and did not have the same capability). The warm glow of holograms washed over him, accompanied by the high-pitched alarm (all the Thunderbirds were linked to their pilot's suits, as a safety measure; as a result, Thunderbird 4 was aware that her pilot was in trouble) which he hastily muted.

"Alan, Thunderbird Four is locked in on the coordinates for the control room."

"FAB."

Thunderbird 4 reacted instantly to the slightest pressure on the throttle, carving through the water leaving powerful currents in her wake. The _Albatross_ loomed out of the shadows, a foreboding dark mass that hung low in the water. The readouts that flickered into being across '4's dash highlighted the increasing pressure that the ship was buckling under, and Alan swept them aside, instead focussing his sights on the dimming heat signature that was highlighted amongst the scan of the control room.

"Thunderbird Four," John appeared on the projector. "Step on it."

Alan didn't reply but tightened his grasp on the control. Thunderbird 4 darted to the right to avoid a panel of the ship that catapulted through the water towards her, twisting in the water to hover outside the control room.

"Okay, Four, work with me here. We can't hit him."

Thunderbird 4's laser ate through the side of the control room in a matter of seconds, the metal melting and hissing at the sudden scorching heat. With the extendable arm, Alan drove the newly cut metal out of the way, sending it spiralling down to the darker waters below.

"Ok _ay_." Silence fell. "Uh, John?" The words _why isn't he swimming_ were not spoken as another alarm resounded about '4's cabin. "The pressure's too much!" Acting instinctively, he let his weight fall back in the chair, Thunderbird 4 flipping him head over heels and out into the agitated waters outside. "Why isn't he wearing a helmet, you _idiot_ , Gordo…" Grasping handfuls of blue uniform and yellow sash, Alan tugged his brother closer to his side, all but falling through '4's back airlock to collapse in a heap on the floor inside. "John?"

"I have control of Thunderbird Four."

Alan's shoulders slumped in relative relief before a new-found panic washed over him. "Gordon?" He tore his helmet off, rolling it to the side as he bent over the prone form on the now water-logged floor. " _Gordon_." His breath caught in his throat as he stumbled forwards on all-fours, pressing a hand with splayed fingers to the aquanaut's chest. "J-John? I don't think…I don't think he's breathing." Cold terror flooded through him as his brother remained motionless. He felt for a pulse, struggling not to cry with relief when a weak butterfly flutter met his fingers. It was uneven, but it was there. Although if he couldn't get Gordon breathing again, that was going to change.

John, for all his attempts to remain calm, sounded just as panicked as Alan. "Follow your training. You can do this."

"Did he breathe in water? I don't…I think he… _fuck_." Alan grabbed his brother's shoulders, dragging his sibling onto his side with a growl of frustration. "Come _on_ Gordon, _breathe_." Hot tears burnt in his eyes, blurring his vision as he urged the red-head to take a breath. "Stop being stubborn, please, you can't…you've gotta…" No response met his efforts and he felt back on his heels. "This is not happening." As well as the panic, a sense of fierce anger ignited, coursing through him and he cuffed away the tears, unable to hold back a frustrated scream. "You are _not_ dying here. I'm _not_ gonna let that _happen_." He slammed a hand down on his brother's back as hard as he could, tugging him forwards again. " _Fucking breathe Gordon_."

John's hologram hovered as the blond waited, struck silent with dread. He was briefly aware of a frantic sounding Virgil arriving at the rescue zone but couldn't tear his gaze away from the image of his two younger brothers.

After what seemed like an age, Gordon let out a harsh cough, choking on the inhaled sea-water. Alan looped an arm around his chest, pulling him further upright as the aquanaut continued to expel the water he'd swallowed in hoarse coughs, taking gasped breaths in between. A moment later, the coughing finally stopped, and silence fell. Gordon's arms trembled under his weight and Alan tightened his grip around his brother's chest.

"You're okay," the younger whispered, unsure as to who he was trying to convince. Gordon slumped against him and Alan let out a long breath, content to just stay crouched on the floor of Thunderbird 4 for the time being. Gordon was in no state to get up yet, let alone pilot the sub, and Alan made no move to end what had turned into a half hug. "Gordy?" He whispered after a second. Gordon didn't reply. "Um…are you-"

"Later. Talk about it later." Gordon cut him, his voice rasping painfully. Alan didn't push him, all too aware of the memories that had to have been thrown in his brother's face with the incident. Drowning was never fun, but nearly drowning twice…He didn't want to think about the repercussions of this incident.

"Thunderbird Four, this is Thunderbird Two. I've retrieved the final passenger and Thunderbird Five is remote piloting you to the surface, where I'll collect you." Virgil's voice softened. "Sit tight guys, we're going home."

Gordon closed his eyes. Alan didn't say another word, but the tension in his brother's shoulders revealed that the other was still conscious. "There's a blanket in the locker to your left."

"What?"

Gordon opened one eye. "Al, you're shivering. Get a blanket."

"And you're not. That's…"

"Yeah, I know." His words were getting less slurred by the minute, but Alan was still worried. "Get the blanket. That'll help both of us." Alan reached across, his sore muscles protesting at the action as the adrenaline began to wear off. The blanket was dark blue in colour and not soft like the ones on Tracy Island, but he was grateful for any kind of warmth. Thunderbird 4's heater began to purr, as though the sub could read his mind.

"Don't go to sleep."

Gordon yawned, practically snuggling into the new-found warmth. Alan draped an arm over his shoulder, trying to warm him up further, noting the water becoming light outside.

"Not planning to." The first shiver scuttled down the aquanaut's spine and he took another deep breath. "You took Four then."

"No scratches, I promise. Brains can't be angry at you."

"Hell yeah." He closed his eyes again. "Hey, Alan?"

"Don't."

"You don't know what I was going to say."

"If it includes the word sorry then I don't want to hear it."

Gordon hummed, his mouth quirking in a half-smile. "You're creepy."

"Blame John. Or Virg. They're the psychics."

"Fine. No apologies. Thanks, though."

There was a slight jolt as the grapple cable connected with '4's hull. "Promise me something?"

Gordon tapped his fingers against Alan's knee. "What?"

"Don't…" Alan blinked back tears. "Don't _ever_ do that to me again."

"Alan." The _I can't promise that_ remained unspoken. Instead Gordon shuffled back, snickering softly at Alan's disgruntled huff as wet copper hair brushed against his chin. "We've still got a pillow fight to finish."

* * *

 ** _It is now insanely late in the UK, so apologies for any mistakes._**

 ** _Review?_**

 ** _Kat x._**


	4. Thunderbird Shadow

**_Look who finally got off her ass and finished this chapter! Also, this is even longer than the last one. This was not intentional, but I guess it could work as an apology for the late update. Thank you to all of you who read the last chapter and for the reviews. Hey, Helensg - your wish is my command. I added in some whump for a certain character. You're welcome ;)_**

* * *

 _Thunderbird Shadow_

Thunderbird Shadow was added to the simulators a good five months after the others. Kayo hadn't been best pleased about the aircraft being added at all (after so long without her own ship, she couldn't help but want to keep it to herself), but a single stern look from Grandma had her relenting, instead skulking down to the gym where she spent the next three hours working out to heavy rock music. Even after the dark Thunderbird had been added, no one really made use of the opportunity; Shadow was rarely used as a rescue craft, so none of them had seen much point in building up experience with flying her.

Everyone, it seemed, apart from Alan.

From the second Brains had declared the new simulator ready for use, the youngest Tracy had snuck inside. Thunderbird Shadow was arguably one of the hardest of the International Rescue fleet to fly; designed for stealth and speed, she was nothing like '3, with a flight style closest to '1 out of all the ships. Revelling in the way the Thunderbird handled easily under his touch, swooping down low and gliding through obstacles without a hitch, Alan wondered how Kayo would react if he asked her whether he could use Thunderbird Shadow to race (the closest he could get to an actual race-car since his go-karting days).

With a surprising lack of space rescues throughout August, Alan spent more time on the simulators than before, resulting in Scott (reluctantly) letting him take '1 for a mission. By the end of the week, after being passed about Thunderbirds (with no school-work to be getting on with, and no rescues either, Alan was jumping at the chance to go on _any_ missions), Alan found himself back in Thunderbird 2. Brains had spent the quiet spell working on upgrades for Thunderbird 4, and Gordon had stayed behind to help install them (the aquanaut was also planning his latest prank, but the victim in question didn't need to know and Alan wasn't going to spoil the _surprise_ ; what Virgil didn't know couldn't hurt him – _yet_ ).

John was steadily working his way through a cinnamon bagel, EOS observing from just behind his shoulder. Between bites, he was explaining the rescue, eager to finish his breakfast before they reached the danger zone.

Kayo's hologram was projected above the control panel, wisps of dark hair escaping from her ponytail. Her morning had been spent tracking down a lead on one of the armed dealers the Hood had been working with and even with Penelope's help, it had been _tiring_ to say the least.

"I heard you're heading to one of the Hood's old hideouts," she announced. "Want some backup?"

Virgil adjusted Thunderbird 2's trajectory. "If you're offering."

"Wait, the Hood?" Alan shuffled forwards in his seat.

John finished his bagel, licking cinnamon from his fingers. "Yep. You're headed to an old power-plant. The reactors were dismantled years ago, but the GDF still have the area declared as hazardous. The Hood was based there for about two years, according to our sources, and left when Kayo and the GDF learnt of his location."

"We searched the area and found no sign of him," Kayo admitted. Alan caught sight of the dark Thunderbird flying alongside them from out of the window, raven-black matte paintwork gleaming in the sunlight. Leaving the amber glow of sunrise at Tracy Island far behind them, Alan had yet to catch sight of further land, with the thick layer of cloud below blocking his view.

"The area is still monitored, and every two months the GDF send people to check there are no leaks from the tank, which is located several miles below ground, but is still connected to the surface. A system malfunctioned, leaving the crew of three trapped in what used to be reactor room, and you need to get them out without damaging the room any further as the tank is directly below it, and could cause a radiation leak."

"This is already sounding like _so much fun_ ," Alan drawled. Kayo muffled her laugh, but her eyes sparked with mirth. The youngest Tracy had been his over dramatic and _'sassy'_ (Gordon's words) self before Kayo had been going on space rescues with him, but her presence had only added to his fluency in sarcasm.

To Alan's left, Virgil was grimacing, swiping through the schematics John had sent through to him. "Is there any way into this place? It's like a maze." He slowed Thunderbird 2, beginning the descent. Thunderbird Shadow copied her sister craft's actions, obscured from sight by the clouds for a second before the two emerged beneath the gloom.

Gloved palms pressed to his side of '2's windshield, Alan stared wide-eyed at the expanse of concrete beneath the aircraft. Partially reclaimed by nature, the majority of the structure was covered by a thick canopy of foliage, but a clear path could be seen leading to a sprawled building complex. The hologram projected from his watch highlighted the reactor room.

"Don't take off your helmets at any time," Kayo instructed. "The Hood was working on some sort of chemical weapon. We cleared the area and got rid of it, but it may still be contaminated, even if the majority of the radioactivity is gone."

"Pity you couldn't have got rid of the Hood at the same time," Virgil muttered darkly, a soft click sounding as his helmet locked into place. Alan lifted his hands on reflex to catch his own helmet which his brother tossed to him. "John?"

"Your way in is on the top of the structure. There's an escape hatch which you should be able to open. Unless, of course, it's rusted shut."

"Let's stick to the positives for now." Virgil commented, tapping Alan's shoulder as he passed to alert his brother that they were leaving. Tearing his gaze away from the window, Alan bounded across the cockpit to join the middle Tracy, landing with a soft thud on the descending platform.

The first thing that hit Alan was the heat. Despite the heavy presence of the cloud layer and the gloominess that the overcast weather presented them with, the humidity levels were high. Even through the protective filter in his helmet, he could taste the dampness in the air. His uniform clung uncomfortably to his back, and he rolled his shoulders in an attempt to dislodge it. Virgil didn't seem to be affected by the heat nearly as much, striding off the platform with all the confidence in the world. Rubbing his hands against his uniform-clad legs, Alan followed.

Kayo was waiting for them, lounging against Thunderbird Shadow's hull with her ankles crossed. Her position appeared relaxed, but the tension in her shoulders revealed she was actually on edge, eyes darting from every possible hiding spot to the next. She also didn't seem to be affected by the heat, but the uneasiness in her movements was evidence enough that she would also be glad to leave.

"Any signs of the Hood?"

Kayo tapped the screen of her watch, shaking her head. "No."

Virgil snuck a glance behind him. The thick line of bracken at the edge of the forest appeared impenetrable and the sensation of eyes boring into his back was unsettling to say the least. "Alan?"

Alan stopped scuffing his feet in the dirt, sky-blue eyes lighting up at the chance of action. "Yeah?"

"Ready to go climbing?"

Alan retrieved the first of the packs from his sash, slotting the cartridge into his grapple gun with a soft _snick_. Kayo copied his actions, sauntering across to the large building in front of them and calculating the distance to her target with narrowed eyes. Eager not to be outdone, Alan took the shot from just behind her, allowing the resulting force to pull him onto the side of the wall.

Swimming every day (usually on Gordon's orders) meant that the youngest Tracy was by no means weak, despite his shorter height, but compared to Virgil, he had no chance. With Kayo's pure skill added into the equation, it was inevitable that Alan would be the last to reach the top, heaving himself over the edge with a dramatic sigh.

"Finally," Kayo commented, with a teasing grin.

Alan, still flopped on his back across the dust-smothered roof, glared at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She rocked back on her heels, surveying the area. While she was blocking his view of Virgil, Alan could see his brother's image reflected in her helmet. Relieved he didn't have to do any of the heavy lifting (yet), Alan remained where he was. He was longing to brush his hair away from his forehead, but that would require removing his helmet and he didn't fancy dying for a long time yet.

"This i- Thun- F-."

The speed at which Alan jolted upright at the sudden blast of static through the comms link would have been funny if it were any other situation, but the loss of communications while out on rescue was never something to laugh at. He shot an uneasy look across at Virgil who tapped his radio on his sash with two fingers, frowning.

"Thunderbird Five?" There was a hiss of static, but nothing more. "John?"

For a moment, there was troubled silence. Alan, much like Gordon, had always hated silence, and hesitantly gave a nervous laugh. "Well, that can't be good."

"You don't say." Kayo lowered her gaze from where it had been fixated on the treeline. "Virgil? What do we do?"

Virgil studied the hologram readouts from his watch and patted the edge of the escape hatch beneath his feet. "We've still got people to rescue. Having comms down isn't ideal, but we can make do."

"Is no-one else finding this too much of a coincidence?" Two pairs of unimpressed stares were suddenly fixed on him and Alan scuffed his shoes in the dust. "What?"

"You're right," Kayo murmured after a moment, folding her arms across her chest and taking a defensive stance. "You two go and get the crew out and I'll keep an eye out for trouble up here."

"Splitting up is not a good idea."

"You literally do that every rescue, Virgil."

"Yeah, except every rescue we've had comms working."

Kayo gave an exasperated growl, practically shoving him towards the escape hatch. "Go," she ordered, knocking her helmet into Virgil's as she stalked past him, back to the edge of the structure. Her grapple gun was clutched in one hand and Brains' latest design of her electro-stuns (tasers, Gordon and Alan corrected every time the name was brought up) in the other. "What, you don't think I can look out for myself?"

Virgil gave her an amused look. "To be honest, I was more worried about the other guy."

Kayo swung her legs over the edge, perched like a hawk searching for prey. She was practically frozen to the spot, but her fingers tapped a steady rhythm against the side of her leg, and Alan had no doubt that at the slightest sign of trouble she'd be on her feet, ready to fight. There were no mistakes about it – Kayo was a badass.

"Right." Virgil's voice jogged him back to reality, and Alan dropped into a crouch above the bolt of the hatch. "Ready?"

"Always." Alan waited for his brother to force the unrelenting metal to open, watching the open expanse of concrete below where the rest of the structure continued. It was an eerie place, especially now that they didn't have their radios working; Alan figured he'd grown too used to having John's voice in his ear whilst on rescues.

The hatch finally opened with a high-pitched shriek of resistance as the metal grated against the bolts. Flakes of copper-red rust fluttered to the ground and even through the filters in his helmet, Alan could smell the stench of decaying foliage and the harsh tang of chemicals. If Virgil picked up on it too then he didn't show it, instead reaching down with one foot and cautiously pressing it to the first rung of the ladder that led down into the inky darkness below. The warped metal gave way under the pressure, disappearing into the depths with a loud clanging noise.

"There goes that plan," Virgil muttered, reaching to his sash for his grapple gun. Alan slunk forwards with his elbows supporting his weight as he peered over the edge. The darkness appeared to carry on forever, and even with the enhanced vision his IR equipment provided him with, he couldn't glimpse the bottom. A mint-green glowstick suddenly dropped past him, bouncing from wall to wall, the cool glow lighting the darkness until it hit the base of the ladder. Alan frowned, recognition of how far down the glowstick had fallen dawning on him. Virgil snapped another glowstick into illumination and attached it to his sash before aiming his grapple at the wall a few metres below. The grapple connected, securing itself with a quiet snick and Virgil dropped down over the side, descending several metres at a time.

"Don't miss us too much," Alan joked over his shoulder to where Kayo was watching with her usual cool gaze. The corners of her lips twitched upwards in a smile.

"As if." Her tone softened. "Be careful, Alan."

Alan gave her a mock-salute, gloved fingers brushing the rim of his helmet. "Obviously."

The sensation of descending into the semi-darkness was disconcerting. Alan had never liked using the grapples on earth-bound rescues; the idea of not seeing where the ground was below him as he lowered himself was unsettling to say the least. Maybe he'd grown too used to space rescues and the relative freedom that the lack of gravity gave him. Either way, Alan was glad when he reached the base of the escape chute.

Virgil released his grapple, turning to the door that should be shut and sealed so that it was air-tight. Instead it swung open, quivering in the breeze that their quick descent had caused.

Alan took a hesitant step closer, Virgil's hand quickly moving to his shoulder stopping him from going any further. He blinked in the green gleam of the glowstick, frowning as he caught sight of his brother's expression.

"What's up?" He whispered, feeling Virgil's grip on his shoulder tighten at the question.

"The crew didn't enter this way. They came in through the main hatch which is round the opposite side of the building."

"So, why's the door open?"

Virgil's eyes narrowed, his shoulders tensing with anticipation. "That's what I'd like to know."

"Maybe we should go get Kayo?"

"No. If there is someone else here other than the crew, then we'll need a lookout. We don't want people sneaking around the Thunderbirds."

Alan stole a glance over his shoulder. Bright light was streaming down from the top of the chute where he knew Kayo was waiting and he felt the urge to crawl back up to the surface. But he'd never be one to run from a fight or something he feared (he was a Tracy after all, and they didn't joke _stubborn was their middle name_ for nothing), and he ducked under Virgil's arm to peer around the open door.

" _Alan,"_ Virgil hissed, taking another step forward, after his brother.

Alan lightly pressed his fingertips to the edge of the door, feeling about the brim. Something cold and sticky clung to the surface of his gloves and he'd wiped it at his sash with a muffled sound of disgust. "What _is_ that?" He retreated back to Virgil's side, holding his hand into the light of the glowstick to examine the residue on his glove. The usual blue of the fabric was stained a deep red colour and Alan swallowed, feeling as though the temperature had dropped by several degrees. Crimson liquid slowly dripped from his fingers to splash onto his boots. "Uh, is that blood?" There was no real reason in asking the question; he knew the answer, but part of him was secretly hoping he was wrong.

Virgil nodded grimly. "Don't touch the base of your helmet. We don't know if it's contaminated and I don't want it getting near your filters."

"R-right." Alan fought the urge to look behind him and stepped into the next corridor, pointedly avoiding looking back at the door. There was a slight pause in other set of footsteps, revealing that Virgil _had_ stopped to check, and then his brother was back by his side, the green glow encompassing him a welcome relief from the darkness. "There's got to be a way to activate the emergency lighting."

"If it's still active. This place was shut down, remember?"

Alan raised a brow at him. "Well, _duh_. But if they send crews to check up on it, then they should still have systems such as the emergency lights working." He lifted his hand instinctively to the radio on his sash before remembrance came crashing down on him. "Jeez, I never thought I'd miss John's voice so much."

Virgil's laugh echoed about the corridor. "No kidding."

With the break in tension, the corridor ahead of them didn't seem so threatening any more. Alan set the pace as he was walking ahead, and it wasn't long before they found themselves in a tall room with a metal staircase like that of a fire escape, leading up to what appeared to be the secondary control room.

"I'll get the lights, you keep going?" Alan suggested, placing one foot onto the steps. Virgil reached out, snagging the back of his uniform and dragging him back to his side.

"Yeah, no. Not happening, Allie. Not with comms down."

Alan made a grab for one of the glow sticks. "You're no fun."

"Uh huh." Virgil batted his hands away, tapping his watch to produce the hologram scans of the building. "The reactor room should be nearby if that was the secondary control room. Can you see a door on the left wall?"

Alan squinted into the darkness, running his hand along the surface of the wall. His fingertips found a crevasse within the concrete, and further fumbling revealed it to be the entrance they were looking for. "Virgil?"

"Yeah?"

"Over here."

The dim light from Alan's sash lit up the door in front of him, the metal bolts rusted. While he was by no means weak, Alan was fully prepared to step aside and let Virgil do the hard work. As his brother attempted to tug open the door, he examined what little he could see of the control room without climbing up to it. The windows were murky; thick with grime and years of disuse. There appeared to be what looked like a figure, slumped forwards in the corner. Alan frowned, dread causing his heartbeat to quicken, pounding in his ears as he crept forwards, staring up and letting his visor zoom in to give him a better look.

"Alan, come on."

He blinked, shaking his head. He had to be imagining things. No-one had been in there for years; even the survey crews kept to the reactor room. Then he recalled the blood drenching his gloves and the door they'd first passed through.

A shiver ran down his spine as he stepped through the door to join Virgil.

"You okay?" Alan jumped at the sudden voice, which only caused Virgil further concern. He reached out, placing a hand on his youngest brother's shoulder to steady him. "Alan?"

"Yeah." Alan shivered again, folding his arms and hunching his shoulders subconsciously. "I just…" He trailed off, biting his lower lip as he glanced about the new room they'd entered. "Does this place give you the creeps, or what?"

Virgil didn't answer for a long minute, surveying the area. "Yes," he admitted, after a moment. He looked across at Alan, grinning as he added, "heebie-jeebies, man."

"Y'know, you and Gordon have spent _way_ too much time together." Alan grinned despite himself, making a mental note to tell his partner in crime later that Virgil had quoted him. The middle Tracy was never going to live it down.

Turning his attention back to the room they were standing in, the massive scale of the area finally dawned on Alan. "Woah," he murmured, stepping forwards so that he was stood in the centre, leaning back and craning his neck to glimpse the ceiling. Everywhere he looked was smothered in buttons and other such controls. While the majority remained covered in a thick layer of dust, some had been used more recently, with a clear handprint amongst the grime on one of the display screens.

He was so absorbed in taking in what appeared to him to be clutter (he was used to holograms; how did workers control the powerplant when their controls were so…disorganised? And given this was Alan, that was saying a lot – his room was... _less_ than tidy) that he almost missed Virgil's whispered question. From the drawn expression on his brother's face, he was evidently not supposed to have overheard.

"Where are they?"

"Who?" Alan jogged back to his side. "The crew?"

"Yeah." Virgil showed him the hologram, pointing at the red dot that they were practically standing on top of, according to the map. "It doesn't make sense. Their emergency beacon is coming from here. We should be right on top of them. But where are they?"

Alan frowned, surreptitiously pressing a button on the underside of his watch to run a scan of his own. They could really do with Thunderbird 5's more powerful scanners and thermal imaging, he thought with growing frustration as the scan came back negative. "No-one's here."

"No kidding." Virgil sighed, grimacing as his shoulder clicked. "Okay, you hit the lights and I'll see if there's anybody back in the secondary control room."

"I thought you didn't want to split up?"

Virgil shot him a dark look. "The only exit from this room is back into the one we've just come from, which is where the secondary control room is. There's no way you can get into any trouble without me spotting you first."

"Such faith, thanks bro."

Virgil muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath and turned on his heels, all but storming out the door. Alan couldn't help but feel slightly guilty; Virgil had been taking the brunt of the rescues lately and with comms down this one wasn't helping with stress levels. Combined with sleep deprivation and a severe lack of caffeine (Scott was gonna pay for using up the last of the coffee), it was no wonder he was reaching the end of his tether as far as patience was concerned.

Leaning over the control panel, Alan searched for anything that looked remotely as though it could bring the lighting back online. Focussed on one set of buttons that looked promising, he wasn't expecting the sudden explosion of static in his ears as his radio erupted into life again.

"Is anyone receiving this?"

Alan's hand flew to his sash. "John?"

John sounded equally as surprised to hear from him. " _Alan_?"

He let out a laugh that sounded a little bit too hysterical for his own liking. "Yeah, yeah, it's me. What happened to comms?"

"I don't know. Something down at your end was blocking the link. I had EOS working on it for the best part of half an hour, and Brains' finally finished with Four's upgrades so now he's helping too. I can't reach any of the others. Are Virgil and Kayo alright?"

"We left Kayo on lookout," Alan admitted, relieved when his brother's avatar sprang into life, projected above his wrist. "Virgil's in the secondary control room."

"Have you found the crew?"

"No." Alan frowned. "That's the weird part. Their beacon shows them at my location, but we can't find them anywhere."

John looked taken aback. "Seriously?" He ran a hand through his hair, confusion evident in his expression. "Okay, I'll have EOS run more scans and I'll contact the GDF, see if they've heard from the crew at all."

"Any chance you could help me get the lights back on?"

John didn't quite hide his smile quick enough, but unlike Gordon, he didn't make any jokes about a certain person's dislike for the dark. "Sure." There was a moment of silence as he consulted the information floating to his right before he began talking Alan through the process.

"Nothing's happening."

"Give it a moment."

Bright lights flickered into being above his head and flooded through the door behind him. The dust-cloaked floor beneath his feet was suddenly fully visible revealing many footprints, some older than others and many smudged. The thing that struck Alan was that there were only two recent sets, both with the pattern he recognised from the IR boots, which meant they could only be his and Virgil's tracks, leaving the crew unaccounted for.

"Hey John?"

"Yes?"

"Did you ever actually speak to the crew?"

"No, it was an automatic message. I received their emergency beacon a minute later." There was a pause. "Why?"

"The only people who've been in this room in the past month at least are Virgil and me."

John had an extremely good poker face, but Alan caught the flash of worry in his eyes before the space monitor ducked his head to open a new radio link. "I'm calling the GDF again. Head back to Virgil's location."

Alan slapped his hands against the plastic shell of the controls. "FAB." As if on cue, the lights went out again. "Oh, _come on_." He lifted his hand to open the radio link again, when a rumble shook through the entire complex. Acting on instinct alone and thankful that his original International Rescue training had been drummed into him so well, Alan dropped to the floor, pressing himself to the side of the control panel. Part of it jutted out, forming a ledge which he ducked underneath, bringing one arm up around his neck before recalling his helmet would protect his head anyway, and dropped his hand back down to support his weight on all fours.

Even crouching, practically pressed to the floor, it was hard to keep his balance. Alarms that he'd thought would have gone offline years before were suddenly screaming and before his eyes some of the ceiling panels came crashing down, sending clouds of dust cascading across the room. Alan flattened himself to the floor and found himself silently thanking Brains for creating such good filters for their helmets. Even relatively secure underneath the control panel, Alan recognised that if the shaking didn't stop soon, then he was going to be in serious trouble. Fixing his sights on the door, he drew his knees up to his chest, preparing to sprint for the next room, with its higher ceiling and space for protection under the staircase.

His radio was squeaking with static and Alan smacked at it, too focussed on getting out of the reactor room to answer. The ceiling panels were steadily giving way and if he wasn't careful then he could end up being entombed in the room; something which he _really_ didn't want to happen. His uniform would provide some protection from the debris, with its extra shielding across his shoulders and chest that acted in a similar way to armour, but a direct hit from the falling panels would be likely to cause a serious injury.

Closing his eyes, he took a breath, before kicking off from one foot, bursting out from under the controls and ducking to avoid another falling panel. Sprinting for the doorway, he jumped over another panel, scaled the pile of debris in his way and jumped from the top, tucking his knees to his chest and landing hard, rolling onto his feet in a movement which Kayo would have been proud of (she _had_ been the one to teach him). As he remained in the doorway, the shaking stopped, slowing to a halt.

For a moment, Alan was unsure as to whether the shudders skittering through the ground were aftershocks or his own trembling. His muscles burnt from holding the crouch for so long and he stretched out one leg, wincing as a sharp pain ignited across his ankle. When he reached down with the hand that was relatively clean and hadn't touched the door earlier, it came back wet with fresh blood. He pressed his back to the doorframe and sucked in a deep breath, his uniform suddenly feeling heavy against his chest. He had the option to look down and check to see how bad the injury was that he'd inflicted on his ankle, or he could carry on and rely on his adrenaline rush, fixing himself up later in '2's med bay. When he looked across to see the state of the secondary control room, his decision was made for him.

"Virgil!" The shout was torn from him before he'd even realised he'd formed the words. The throbbing pain in his ankle diminished in the sudden rush of fear for his brother as he tipped forwards, scrambling to his feet. His sash blinked at him with an incoming transmission, but he ignored it in his haste to reach the partially collapsed staircase. Reaching for his grapple gun, he aimed it at the top of the stairs without thinking, attaching the grapple to his sash as a security measure and scaling the rubble to reach the room faster than he thought possible.

If the reactor room hadn't fared well, then the secondary control room had done even worse. The doorway had collapse along with several of the main support beams, now broken in several places and burying the floor. Alan tugged at a piece of panelling that blocked the entrance, pressing one foot against the wall to increase his efforts. It finally came away in his tight grasp, almost sending him flying back down the steps if it weren't for the grapple, still connected to his sash.

Crawling over the debris, Alan ducked his head and shoulders inside the gap he'd created, slinking through the rest of the rift to slide down, landing on the floor inside with a loud thump. His ankle protested at the sudden jolt and he couldn't stop the pained hiss that escaped through his clenched teeth.

"Virgil?" He whispered, his voice small in comparison to the alarms that were now muffled but still there. His ears were ringing, he realised dimly, as he searched the area frantically. His gaze caught on a flash of brilliant blue beneath the debris towards the far corner and he hesitantly took a step forwards, unsure as to whether the rubble would take his weight. At the small creak of protest it gave, Alan launched himself across the gap, skidding to a halt. Falling back onto his heels, he grimaced at the thick layer of grime now situated across the knees of his uniform.

"Virg?" There was a pained groan in response and Alan let some of the tension fall from his shoulders at the knowledge that his sibling was alive. The tension returned however, when he glimpsed the two beams pinning him in place. He leant forwards, reaching through the collapsed beams to press his hands to his brother's shoulders. "Virgil? C'mon, time to wake up."

"Fi'e more minu'es," came the slurred response. Alan narrowed his eyes and dug in his fingers slightly.

"No, not five more minutes. Get up now."

"Alan?" John had given up on requesting a radio link and had activated the transmission automatically from '5. His hologram hovered above Alan's wrist, his hair ruffled from where he'd running his fingers through it while he fretted over his siblings below.

"I'm here. I'm with Virgil."

"Are you alright? I picked up severe tremors at the site."

Alan glared at the debris surrounding him. "You can say that again. I'm okay. Well, my ankle's hurt and I don't know how bad, but my suit's keeping pressure on it for now, so I don't want to remove it to see how bad it is in case it needs the pressure."

It was partially true, but John filled in the gaps without needing any further explanation. "Good," he breathed, closing his eyes for a moment. "And Virgil?"

Alan tapped at his brother's helmet. Virgil's brow creased but he didn't open his eyes. "I'm with him now. He's semi-conscious, I think, but he won't wake up fully."

"Status?"

"The support beams collapsed along with the ceiling and doorway during whatever the hell happened just now. He's trapped under two of them."

John cursed. "Okay. Can you get him out?"

"Uh, maybe?" Alan struggled to push at the part of the support beam that was pinned across his middle brother's legs. "I need him to wake up though. I can't carry him out of here by myself, and I still haven't heard from Kayo."

"I have eyes on Kayo, she's still outside. She's trying to fix her radio. You're the only one I can reach right now." John tapped at a stray hologram. "Let me talk to Virgil."

"FAB."

With John talking to Virgil and slowly bringing him out of his state of half-awareness, Alan focussed on trying to clear the debris. It was heavier than the panel at the doorway had been and a deep ache settled in his back and arms as he attempted to push it free.

"Allie?"

Alan spun around, practically tripping over his own feet and landing next to Virgil. "You're awake!"

"State the obvious, much?" John added dryly, before returning his attention to Kayo, who was attempting to make contact once more.

Virgil reached up, brushing his fingertips against Alan's helmet. "You okay?"

" _You're_ asking _me_ that?" Alan asked somewhat incredulously. Part of him wasn't surprised; his brothers would never _not_ be overprotective. "Can you feel your legs?"

Virgil sucked in a breath. "Unfortunately, yes." He nodded down at his watch, pinned under a piece of concrete. "Run a med scan for me, would you?"

Alan tapped the watch obediently and returned to his efforts with the first beam. It had budged part of the way, removing the pressure from one leg, and he was determined to move it off completely. With a frustrated growl, he launched all his weight into it, almost flying over the massive chunk of debris as it gave way and slid onto the ground. Virgil made a muffled noise of pain, closing his eyes tightly. Alan, observant when he wanted to be, dropped down next to him, sliding his hand into his brother's own.

"Hey, you're good. Breathe through it." Virgil's grip on his hand tightened and then relaxed. "Virgil? You still with me?"

"Y-yeah. God. That…that hurt."

Alan winced, moving his hand to rest it on Virgil's shoulder. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Not your fault."

"I should have come back here with you."

"I'm in charge. It was my call. You followed orders."

"Still."

"No, not still." Virgil fixed a serious gaze on his brother, honey-brown eyes filled with concern and affection. "You did good."

"You sound like Scott."

"Very funny. Let's get the rest of this off my chest."

Alan grimaced. "What about the med scan?"

"We'll check that after. But it's kinda hard to breathe at the moment."

Alan fixed a determined glare on the remaining beam. It was broken in two places, which made it easier to move, but its position, strewn across Virgil's chest and upper ribs, made it the more dangerous to lift, especially given he was unsure as to what damage it had already caused. He dug his heels into the ground, gradually putting pressure onto the beam and shoving as hard as he could. It was better to move it quickly in one swift movement then slowly, he figured, all but growling as he attempted to shift it.

"Okay, okay, fu-stop," Virgil finally burst out, his breath coming in shallow pants. His forehead was shiny with sweat and his hands had curled into fists. Alan sunk down onto his knees next to him, pressing against his side lightly so as not to cause further pain but close enough that Virgil recognised he was there. "S-stop."

"Sorry, I'm sorry."

"Just hurt."

"I know. Shit."

"Language."

"Now you _really_ sound like Scott."

Virgil huffed out a laugh, wincing at the pain that bloomed across his chest at the movement. Alan tapped on his knuckles, which were white with tension beneath his torn gloves and Virgil slowly unclenched his fingers.

"Virg, I've gotta get you out of here."

"I know."

"Do you want me to call in Scott and Gordon?"

"No. We…We've just got to rethink this."

"Okay." Alan lowered himself onto his stomach so that he was lying parallel with his brother, pressing his forehead to the elder's shoulder and resting an arm across his collarbone in the closest he could get to a hug and the most comfort he could provide without causing further pain. "But Virg, you're getting kinda shock-ey. I have to get you out."

Virgil closed his eyes, taking as deep a breath as he could without reviving the pain in his chest. "Medbay. Two. Adrenaline shot."

"No."

" _Alan_."

Alan knocked on his helmet again, causing Virgil to open his eyes. "I'm not leaving you." He stared across at his brother, worry clinging to every part of his mind. "We'll just think of another way to get you out." They lay in silence for a minute, the only sounds being the distant wailing of alarms and Virgil's breathing, which revealed his true condition despite his attempts to hide the pain from his younger brother.

"Jackscrew," Alan suddenly announced, flinging himself upright.

Virgil blinked at him, utterly lost.

"We need to create some sort of replica. I'm not strong enough to move it by myself, but what if I don't need to move it? What if I just need to raise it?"

Virgil couldn't help but grin. "I like the way you think, little brother."

"Right. But how?"

"You have the grapple, and the laser cutter."

"You're lying on it. And you may have broken ribs."

"Just leave that part to me. Go get the grapple."

It took the best part of an hour to rig up the contraption they had created, and a further ten minutes to pull Virgil free. With his back pressed to the wall, Virgil's face was pale, and in his lap, his hands were trembling.

Alan let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding in a rush. "Med scan?"

Virgil raised his wrist to examine the holographic read outs, grimacing as he noted the results. Alan watched in concern, prepared to make a grab for the watch to see them for himself if his brother even thought about lying to him.

"Fracture, lower left leg. And two cracked ribs on the upper right." Virgil rested his wrist on Alan's knee, letting him scroll through the results while the middle Tracy tilted his head back against the concrete behind him. While he knew Brains had designed their IR suits to keep them at optimal body temperature for peak performance on rescue, he could've sworn he could feel the cold seeping through the fabric from the surrounding debris and air. Alan's hand knocked against his right leg and he realised he'd been falling back into the welcoming darkness that was either sleep or unconsciousness (he was unsure as to which).

"We can create a brace for your leg. It's a clean break, which is good." Alan's voice was loud in the semi-darkness, cutting through the cloudiness of his mind. Logically, Virgil knew he didn't have a concussion, but the exhaustion was making him wonder otherwise.

For his part, Alan was running on auto-pilot. When Kayo's hologram appeared above his watch, he could have cried with relief.

"Alan," she greeted him with a relieved smile, shoulders slumping. Whilst John had confirmed that the youngest Tracy was alright, other than his ankle, she had been worrying about him anyway. "Are you alright?"

"Been better," he admitted, reaching up to brush his hair back from his forehead only for his hand to connect with his helmet. "Where are you?"

Kayo's gaze darkened as she stole a glance about her surroundings. "Opposite side of the complex, near where we found the Hood. I discovered one of his henchman unconscious in the treeline while I was scouting the area after you guys went down. He had a head injury, but I got some information out of him."

"Oh yeah?" Alan continued to make quick work of the temporary leg brace whilst he listened to his pseudo-sister. Head injury, he wondered as he worked. Maybe that was where the blood on the door had come from?

"Yeah." Kayo smirked. "He was very happy to tell me what I wanted to know after a few minutes."

"You're awesome."

"I know."

"Oh, I take it back now."

"No take backs. Anyway, it was a setup. The Hood has several henchmen about the place."

"Was the shaking anything to do with them?"

"There was some sort of explosion. It must have been their fault. I'm going to create a distraction, so you and Virgil can get out."

"No, Kayo, wait-"

Kayo's avatar had already vanished by the time he'd spoken, and Alan was left staring at the empty space above his watch. "Dammit," he cursed, tugging at the end of the grapple rope he'd used on the brace, checking it was secure. Virgil, who'd been mostly zoned out for the entire conversation with Kayo, jolted back into awareness at the sudden pressure on his leg. "Ready to go?"

Virgil inspected the make-shift brace and gave his brother a look of approval. "Not really. Don't think I've got much choice about that though, have I?"

"Lemme think about that…yeah, no." Alan knelt down, wrapping an arm around his brother's shoulder and offering his free hand as an extra support. It was the first time Virgil had stood upright since the explosion an hour earlier, and he instinctively went to spread his weight equally between both legs. Alan staggered under the sudden extra weight as his brother swayed before steadying himself, taking deep breaths, his face worryingly pale in the dim light. "You okay?"

Virgil stared at him with a long-suffering expression. "Yeah, I'm fine. Let's go."

"Pretty sure _fine_ doesn't come into this, but okay."

Relieved that they'd already passed the most difficult parts earlier (the blocked doorway and the stairs), Alan led the way back through the corridor. It was a slow process, with Virgil leaning heavily on him, and he dreaded to think about the extra damage he was causing to his ankle. He made a point of not looking at the blood-covered door from earlier and came to a halt at the base of the escape chute.

"We _really_ didn't think this part through," he muttered, squinting up at the bright light above them. Virgil lifted his arm away from around his brother's shoulders, stumbling before he caught his balance with one hand braced to the wall, leaving Alan free to formulate the next part of the plan.

"How many grapple packs have you got left?"

Alan checked his belt and sash. "Two," he admitted, glancing back up at the rusted ladder. "You?"

"One."

"Technically…"

"Whenever you say something that starts with _technically_ , I never like how it ends."

"Not always."

"Paintballing last year. The Dubai rescue this year. Most water fights at home. You want any more examples?"

Alan glared at him and stalked to the opposite side of the chute. He was tempted to call Kayo but if she was in the middle of hunting down the Hood's minions on the other side of the building then he could be putting her in danger by ringing. Still, he thought, with another look back at Virgil, there was no way they were going to be able to successfully grapple out of the chute with a broken leg and a _something_ ankle between them.

His sash flashed with an incoming call.

"Kayo?"

"Be ready to run in three."

He winced. "Might have a problem there."

She raised a brow at him. "Define problem."

"Virgil's got a fractured leg and two cracked ribs." He debated adding in the bit about his ankle but decided against it. He was sure he could run if it really came down to it. "Wait, Kayo, I've been thinking-"

"Careful, don't strain yourself."

"-and I don't think you need to create a distraction. Whatever the Hood's doing here, he's not after us. He's got guys all over this place, he has to have known where me and Virg were, but he didn't come after us."

"So, what's he doing here?" Kayo frowned, ducking lower behind the concrete post she was hiding behind. Her voice was hushed. "I can't find evidence of his chemical research or production of a weapon _anywhere_."

"I don't know. But the rescue call was a fake."

"John confirmed that, by the way. The GDF had no record of sending a crew out today, or in the past six weeks."

"If he's not after us, then he's got to be after you."

Kayo's gaze darkened. "Or the Thunderbirds." She muttered obscenities under her breath. "Sorry, Al, I've got to go. I'll call you back in five."

"Be careful." His words echoed about the silence of the escape chute and he sighed, turning back to Virgil. "Looks like we'll have to try the grapples."

For a moment, Virgil didn't say anything. He was gripping the green fabric of his sash tightly in an attempt to stop the shaking in his fingers, but his leg and chest were white-hot with pain and the idea of using the grapples resulted in a wave of nausea. He closed his eyes, pressing a hand to the wall behind him and feeling the cold bleed through the torn fabric of his gloves into his skin. It was grounding and he used it to concentrate on sliding his final grapple pack into the gun, lifting it to aim with shaking hands.

Alan reached out and took it from him, shrugging with an easy grin to hide the fearful worry. "I'm a better shot than you anyway."

"And Gordon's better than both of us," Virgil replied in a tired voice, saying the first thought that came to mind to keep himself awake. His head was pounding and his vision kept going blurry. Alan was definitely going to be flying '2 home. "But don't tell him that."

"As long as you don't tell Scott who it was that stole the rest of the cake that Penelope brought over last weekend."

"That was _you_?"

"I thought you knew?"

" _No_! I thought that was John!"

"Feel free to keep thinking that."

"Is this where you tell me that it was you who put dye in Grandma's shower head and not Gordon?"

"She looks cool with purple hair."

" _Alan_."

"To be fair, I was gonna prank Gordon, but then he was stuck out on that rescue with you in Colorado and I got bored."

"You are a tragedy."

"I know. So are you."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Virgil took back the grapple gun, curling his fingers around it in a death-grip. Alan knocked their shoulders together lightly until his brother looked at him.

"C'mon, it'll be fine. You've done worse."

"That isn't helping."

"Sorry." Alan looked suitably abashed. "It'll be over within two minutes, which is only one-hundred-and-twenty seconds, which is no time at all when you think about it, because this one time I managed to…"

"Alan?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

By the time they reached the top of the escape chute, Alan was rethinking how long two minutes could be. His uniform was clinging uncomfortably to him and his back was drenched with sweat and he wasn't even the one with the relatively severe injuries. For his part, Virgil was flopped on his back on the concrete roof, eyes closed and John's hologram hovering nervously above his watch, talking quietly through the private link in his helmet. Virgil didn't appear to be responding but every now and then he'd smile or tap his fingers and Alan knew him well enough to understand that he was awake but too tired and hurting to start a conversation. John didn't seem to mind. There was a reason he was the one in Thunderbird 5.

Alan was draped over the edge of the roof, his gaze fixed on the green bulk a few metres away from the base of the building that was Thunderbird 2. He had a horrible suspicion that he'd been right about the Hood wanting to track down Kayo, as no-one had come after them and the area about the two International Rescue crafts was deserted. On one hand, this was good news for getting Virgil back to the med-bay on '2, but on the other, Kayo still hadn't called back, and he was more certain than ever that she was walking into a trap.

"John?" He whispered into his comms link. The astronaut appeared a second later, waiting expectantly for him to continue. "I'm gonna take Virg back to Two and then go after Kayo."

"Alan, that's a bad idea."

"She's not responding." Alan pointed out, rather than admitting ' _yeah, I know.'_ He turned back, hearing a scuffling sound to see Virgil had attempted to stand up and was instead slumped forwards, supporting his weight with one arm, with the other clutched to his ribs. "Oh, _great_."

Virgil glanced up as Alan's shadow fell across him, looking suitably sheepish.

"Need any help?"

"If you're offering."

With only one grapple pack left between the pair of them, Alan made a point of ensuring Virgil made it to the ground safely, before lowering himself by climbing down the rope left behind. He'd never been so glad that their uniform included gloves until he imagined what the friction would be doing to his hands otherwise. He landed ungracefully in a heap amongst the long grass at the base of the building, swatting a fly off his helmet and scrambling to his feet with a wince. By the time he'd settled Virgil back in Thunderbird 2's med-bay (Virgil assured him he could sort himself out from there and given that his brother was a) the Field-Medic and b) not Scott, Alan believed him) and headed up to the cockpit where John's hologram was waiting for him, he was exhausted and longing to just set the coordinates for '2 to autopilot them home. Instead, he tried Kayo's radio again.

"She's inside the building on the West side," John alerted him. "I don't have eyes on her."

"FAB. And she's not answering her radio either," Alan sighed, tipping himself back in the pilot's chair and revelling in the comfort of the padding. "Looks like I'm heading in again."

"Alan, wait for backup."

"What backup? Gordon's stuck back on Tracy Island unless he takes Thunderbird Three, and Scott's still in Copenhagen with that fire."

John watched Kayo's signal flicker in front of him. She hadn't moved in the past seven minutes and he felt sick with worry. While his brothers running into trouble wasn't _that_ unusual, Kayo was usually the one who always made it out without a scratch and with an awesome story to tell. Having her in danger was a new situation and one he really didn't want ever to face again, but without any idea of what was going on inside the building he was loathe to send his youngest brother in.

Alan reached across the controls to activate the camouflage features of Thunderbird 2. Reflective panels hummed into being across the hull until it was nearly impossible to tell that there was anything there, let alone a giant aircraft of International Rescue. While Alan knew that the Hood was already aware of '2's location, he hoped it would at least make it more difficult to find the entrance with the camo-panels engaged and headed back down to the med-bay to check on Virgil before he left.

Virgil was all but asleep, slumped against the wall from where he was sat on one of the pull-out beds, his helmet discarded on the mattress next to him. His dark hair was stuck on end, with several strands falling across his forehead but he was too tired to brush them out the way. Without his helmet, his suit couldn't accurately maintain the correct temperature and combined with air-con of the med-bay, he had goose-bumps where he'd rolled up the sleeves of his uniform.

Alan opted not to wake him but moved the water bottle off the floor and onto the mattress so that it was within reach. There was a beige blanket folded up on one of the shelves and he shook it open, draping it about his sleeping sibling until it was tucked about his shoulders. He paused in the doorway, glancing back at Virgil before dragging his attention back to the situation at hand. While he was still worried about him, at least he knew that Virgil was safe now. His adopted sister on the other hand, was not, and he quickened his pace into a jog, all but falling over his own feet in his haste to exit the Thunderbird.

"Alan!" His radio burst into life and he slammed one hand on it as he sprinted towards the western flank of the complex. "Alan, can you hear me?"

"Yes!" Kayo sounded panicked, which was completely unlike her and he found himself panicking alongside her. "Where are you? Are you okay? What happened?"

"You were right; it was a trap. I managed to break free, but I've sprained my wrist and I fell pretty far so I think I landed awkwardly. I'm heading for the roof."

"What?"

"Just pick me up there, will you? I can't evade these guys forever." Her words came in short gasps as she skidded around a corner, heading for the nearest flight of stairs.

Alan slowed to a walking pace. "I'll get Two."

"No, take Shadow."

"Are you kidding?"

"These sonuvabitches have guns, no way in hell am I kidding." There was a soft cry of pain and the radio grew muffled.

"Kayo!"

"Just do it."

The radio went dead. With his heartbeat pounding in his ears, Alan turned to face the sleek aircraft that rose above him. Thunderbird Shadow was beautiful, there was no doubt about it, but she was also intimidating. Yet Kayo was in trouble, so he shook himself out of the trance-like state he'd fallen into, and awkwardly stood about underneath the aircraft.

"Uh, Shadow? I could do with a way in."

"Voice recognition system active. Please state your name and role."

"Uh…" Alan tapped at his watch in agitation. "Alan Tracy."

"Role?"

He blinked. He wasn't officially the pilot of any of the crafts. "International Rescue member?" There was no reaction. "Pilot? Astronaut?" In desperation he spoke the first words that came to his mind. "Pilot of Thunderbird Three."

"Accepted." The platform rose down, and he jumped onto it, waving his arms wildly to catch his balance. "Welcome, Alan Tracy, Pilot of Thunderbird Three."

"Um, technically, that's not my job, but sure."

He settled into the pilot's seat as holograms lit up about him and the control column was bathed in a deep violet glow. Instantly it felt different to the simulators, with a soft hum running throughout the entire aircraft. Hesitantly, he reached out and closed his hands around the controls, activating the thrusters. Thunderbird Shadow rose off the ground instantly, with a much faster reaction rate than he was used to with any of the other Thunderbirds (even '4 and '1).

"Thunderbird Shadow, there are hostiles on the roof where Kayo is headed."

Alan snapped to attention. "FAB John."

"They're directed at the entrance she'll be coming out of."

"Then I need to draw their fire."

"Alan, you're not a fighter pilot."

"Right, but I'm related to one of the best. How hard can it be?"

"I don't know, why don't we call him and ask?"

"John, if you call Scott then I will turn off this radio."

Alan guided Thunderbird Shadow higher and then glided her to a hover over the roof of the building. While the armoured men waiting there acknowledged his presence with an enraged shout, and a few pointed arms waving in his general direction, none of them turned away from the hatch. He clenched his fists around the controls, taking a deep breath to try and calm himself down.

"Hey, any ideas on how I can get these guys' attention?"

John frowned. "Fire at them first?"

"Let me guess, it's not advised?" Alan didn't wait for the response, firing off charges at the edge of the building so that he didn't hit anyone. "Huh," he commented as he suddenly found rows of guns and other such weaponry pointed his way. "That got their attention."

They all started firing at once and Alan reacted on instinct alone, drawing his hands back and banking to the left. Something slammed into the side of the Thunderbird and he smashed his helmet against the side of the cockpit. "What _was_ that?"

"I'm five minutes out," Kayo's voice sounded in his ear, strained and quiet.

"FAB."

He activated the flares as a blaring alarm alerted him to fact there was a _something_ locked onto his tail. Thunderbird Shadow rose up in a sharp incline before practically nose-diving to the ground, spinning upside down and taking out several of the gunmen with the electric beam before swooping back up. Ammunition rained down on the right-hand wing and Alan dove sharply, cursing as another alarm rang. "Do these guys ever give up?"

"Speaking from experience," Kayo interjected. "No."

Thunderbird Shadow shuddered as the aircraft took another hit and Alan narrowed his eyes, leaning forwards in his seat. "Okay, _now_ I'm angry." He slammed forwards onto the throttle, diving down low until the gunmen were forced to duck. "What does this do?"

"If it's a red button, don't press it."

Alan elected to press the red button. A wave of energy surged across the rooftop in a flood of destruction, sending several of the henchmen flying over each other. One guy fell off the building completely and the ones who continued firing found their ammunition flying back at them. Someone clutched their hands to the side of their helmet.

Alan stared at them, wide-eyed and smirking. "Huh. That's what it does."

" _Alan."_

"I mean, uh, oops?"

Kayo burst out of the hatch and onto the rooftop, flipping head over heels and landing on her feet, fists at the ready. One guy made a grab for her and she slammed her fist into his throat, sliding down low to flip him over her shoulder. He landed on the concrete with a groan. Turning, she found herself face to face with another gun and took a step back, holding her hands out, electricity sparking about her electro-stuns. "Uh…"

"Kayo, duck!" Alan connected Shadow to his watch and launched himself out of the aircraft, slamming his boots into the first gunman's back and landing in a tucked roll that ended with him sprawled at Kayo's feet. Kayo smashed her hand upwards into the next fighter's jaw, sending the woman stumbling backwards, dragging Alan to his feet and kicking out at the other man. Alan ducked as she sent another punch over his head but neglected to see the man bringing his fist down at her back.

"Hey!" Alan ducked between the two, catching the fist and jamming his elbow into the guy's stomach, discarding the gun that had been aimed at him with a single kick. "It's not nice to _shoot_ people."

"Time to go?" Kayo suggested, stumbling as she narrowly avoided another hit so that they were back to back, surrounded by the henchmen.

Alan gave a nervous laugh. "Uh, yeah." He tapped his watch, grabbed Kayo by her arm and leapt off the edge of the roof. For a moment they were free-falling, before Thunderbird Shadow swerved down under them. Kayo rolled across the wing, slipping into the pilot's seat, and directing the Thunderbird back towards '2.

"Thanks for the help, Allie, but it's time to get back to your own Thunderbird."

"Wait, I don't have one," Alan began to protest before Shadow's wing tipped to the side and he found himself falling before he landed with a light thud on the hatch of Thunderbird 2. He felt about (the Camo-Panels made it near impossible to see where the opening was) and finally found the edges of the hatch, tumbling through to land in a heap on the floor of Thunderbird 2's cockpit.

John's avatar appeared. "Ready to go home?"

Alan dropped his head back to the floor with a groan. "Hell yeah."

* * *

"Hey Gordon?"

Gordon disappeared under the water of the swimming pool to surface at the edge where Alan was perched, dangling his feet in the cool water. It was late dusk, but the heat of the day still clung to the air, a contrast to the cold air-con inside the villa. Above him, a tall palm tree's fronds rustled in the southern breeze, dancing through the sky, chasing away wisps of clouds that obscured the stars that were becoming visible.

"Yeah?" The red-head asked, shaking stray droplets free of his hair, his fringe plastered to his forehead. He swept a hand through it, tugging himself out of the pool, and flopping back against the tiles of the patio. The remnants of the afternoon heat were still captured in them and soaked into his back. "What's up?"

Alan grinned. "The sky," he replied in their usual joke, before sighing, resting his chin in one hand.

Gordon frowned at him, poking at the younger's ribs with one finger. Alan yelped, scrambling away from him. " _Gordon_."

"Speak, small fry."

"Earlier, in Shadow…why are the security protocols programmed to recognise me as Three's pilot?"

Gordon flopped an arm across his face. "Why aren't you asking Scott this?"

"He's with Virg in the infirmary."

"So go ask."

"Yeah, but…"

Gordon sat up, a small pool of water collecting about him as it dripped from his hair, running down the length of his back. "Look, I don't know for sure. But you're kinda Three's pilot, aren't you?"

"Unofficially."

"Oh, _please_." Gordon waved a hand, slinging an arm around his brother's shoulders. "It's only a matter of time."

"You think?" Alan murmured wistfully, staring up at the star-studded skies above. The glow of the pool-lights illuminated the water about his feet and he sighed, slumping against Gordon's side, ignoring the way his t-shirt was steadily growing damper from the pool-water dripping from his brother.

Gordon watched him for a moment, ducking his head to hide his smile. "Definitely. But right now, I need to know – Kayo said you kicked ass out there. Is she lying?"

"No." Alan caught sight of his brother's doubtful look. "Hey! Why would she be lying?"

"Because it's _you_. I didn't know you could fight. This is brand new information!"

"Okay, stop quoting Friends."

"Never."

Gordon grinned. "Long day, huh?"

Alan sighed. "You have no idea."

"You know what this calls for?"

"No?" Alan edged away from him suspiciously. "Do I want to know?"

"Being thrown in the pool."

"Gordon, no!"

"Gordon, yes!"

"Get away from me!"

* * *

 _ **Only two chapters left, with more whump and angst to come. Thanks for reading!**_

 _ **Review?**_

 _ **Kat x.**_


	5. Thunderbird Five

**_This took a lot longer to finish than expected, so sorry for the delay - I meant to have this up last Saturday. On another note, my chapters are steadily increasing in length. By the time I've finished the final chapter it may as long as an entire multi-chapter fic! Okay, so I may be exaggerating a little, but this hit 12k by the time it was done. My hands are tired from so much typing._**

 ** _Thanks to all of you who reviewed the last chapter. There's less angst in this chapter; instead there's more Tracy brothers, banter, oversized hoodies and discussions about previously murderous AIs. Really, give it a shot, I'm just forewarning you that the lack of copious angst and whump in this chapter is due to the fact that the next chapter stole it all. Much angst and hurt to come. You know what that means? Comfort too. Get ready for the final chapter, it's gonna be a bumpy ride._**

 ** _Anyway, enjoy (hopefully) this instalment and I'll get back to writing._**

* * *

 _Thunderbird 5_

For some reason that no-one really knew, no-one had ever been trained to take over space monitor duty on board Thunderbird 5 other than John. Sure, most of them had a vague idea of how to coordinate rescues from Tracy Island (Grandma in particular), but monitoring and controlling Thunderbird 5's complex systems? Not a chance. For the most part, seeing as John hardly ever came down from '5 (one-time Scott had to actually drag him into Thunderbird 3 and back down to Tracy Island, accompanied by Gordon who spent most of his time laughing), this worked without a hitch. Space is like a ready-made quarantine, so it wasn't as though he were about to get sick and be forced back down to Planet Earth.

This didn't account for the idea that he may get sick whilst back on Tracy Island, and consequently be unable to travel back up to Thunderbird 5.

Gordon had been the first one to come down with the flu. He'd been sneezing a lot on the trip out to the drop-zone and Virgil had pointedly shuffled across his seat until he was as far away as possible from his co-pilot. When Thunderbird 4 had reached the rescue zone (a cargo-ship taking on water from their starboard side), the sneezing had been forgotten about, until Gordon had taken off his helmet to give clean oxygen to a woman who'd been trapped down below (she had been breathing contaminated air from where the fuel tanks had ruptured) and was promptly knocked overboard by a frightened passenger who'd been overseeing the cargo's journey.

Moments later, a disgruntled looking aquanaut limped his way back onto the main deck with help of a grapple, but breathing in cold water had done nothing to help what he'd first suspected was a common cold. With the cargo ship effectively dead in the water, they'd gathered all the crew into Pod 4, and transported them across to the nearest mainland.

Virgil left Gordon in '2's cockpit to go down and check everyone was alright (and to be sure that nothing had been damaged in the Pod). By the time he managed to evade the multitude of thanks sent his way, he'd been a good ten minutes.

"I'm surprised you didn't leave without me," he commented as he stepped off the rising platform from the Pod into the cockpit. There was no reply and he frowned, still awaiting a sarcastic response as he dropped into the pilot's seat. "Gordon?" He glanced across at his brother. The aquanaut mumbled something illegible in response and rolled over in his seat. Virgil tapped one of the holograms in front of him to open a link to both Thunderbird 5 and Tracy Island as he started '2's lift-off procedure.

"Hey Virgil," Scott greeted him, Alan just about visible behind him. For a moment Virgil tried to work out exactly what it was that his youngest sibling was trying to do, and when he spotted the skateboard he decided that he _really_ didn't want to know. "How was the rescue?"

"More like how's Gordon? Readouts showed he didn't have his helmet on when he fell in."

Scott cast a horrified look at John's avatar. " _What?_ "

"Relax, Scooter, he's okay. Well," Virgil stole another look across at the slumbering figure next to him. "I'm pretty sure he's sick. He was sneezing the whole way out, and now he's asleep."

"If he's asleep then he's definitely sick," Scott added wryly.

"John, you might want to save your visit for next week, if Gordo's not well."

John shook his head. "Nah, I'm still come down on Sunday. He may be better by then, anyway."

"Only if we can keep him out the pool that long." Virgil muttered, slowing '2's rate of descent as he brought the Thunderbird into land. The hanger doors slid shut behind the aircraft, leaving them in relative darkness for a moment before the hangar lights burst into life. "Gordon." He reached across to shake his brother's shoulder. "C'mon, we're home."

Gordon opened one eye to glare at him, before promptly sneezing again, all over him.

Virgil stared at him. "I'm disowning you."

"Thanks." Gordon sniffed. "Can I sleep here?"

"Nope." Trying to ignore the fact he'd just been sneezed on and instead focusing on the idea of a hot shower within the next half-hour, Virgil looped an arm round his brother's shoulders, practically pulling him out of the seat.

"I want death," Gordon mumbled, his face pressed against Virgil's shoulder. "Death is preferable to how I feel right now."

"Stop being so dramatic."

"Dramatic is my middle name, bro."

Virgil glared at the ceiling of '2, trying his best not to snap at Gordon. He was tired and desperately wanted a shower, and while it wasn't Gordon's fault that he was sick, the aquanaut was making the entire process of exiting the Thunderbird much more complicated than it needed to be. He shifted his weight to the other foot in attempt to combat the strain on his other side where Gordon was practically clinging to his shoulder.

"Gordon, just walk. It's not that hard."

"Yeah, it really is." Gordon sneezed again, blinking apologetically at his brother.

"I will leave your ass here."

"No, you won't."

Virgil tugged his arm free of Gordon's tight grip resulting in the aquanaut landing on the floor with a startled yelp. Turning on his heels, he headed for the exit, ignoring the pitiful yells behind him.

"Virg? C'mon, you're not gonna leave me here, are you? Virg?" Gordon scrambled to his feet, grabbing at the side of the lockers to help support himself. The world tilted dizzyingly for a moment and he scrabbled for a handhold. " _Virgil_!"

Virgil stopped in his tracks. He knew when Gordon was messing around and there was something else in his brother's voice that had him turning back.

"Aw crap, Gords." He strode back to his brother's side, looping an arm around him to preventing the red-head from plunging straight back to the floor. Gordon swayed on his feet for a moment before slumping entirely against Virgil's shoulder, closing his eyes and fighting against the waves of nausea.

"Sorry," he mumbled into the blue fabric of the uniform. "M'sorry."

"Yeah," Virgil replied in a quieter voice, recognising the way Gordon had flinched at his louder tones previously. "Yeah, me too. I didn't realise you were that bad."

"'M not sick."

"Gordon, you're burning up. I can literally feel how high your temperature is through my suit."

There came a knock from the exit and Virgil looked up to spot Scott leaning against the doorway, frowning as he caught sight of Gordon.

"I was wondering what was taking you so long," the pilot murmured, leaving his position by the hatch to reach them. Virgil shot him a grateful look as Scott stopped by his side, stooping to take some of Gordon's weight away from his shoulder. While Virgil had to accept that he was the strongest of the Tracy brothers, after a long day of rescues even he had to admit that carrying his nineteen-year-old brother out of a Thunderbird and up several flights of stairs (the lift was on the opposite side of the hangar and the bright lights inside it would do nothing to help with Gordon's headache) was a bit much.

"Thanks."

Scott nodded to him. "Kayo brought back food from Sydney, by the way."

Virgil grinned, mentally thanking his adopted sister. "Oh, thank God. Edible dinner for once."

"Uh huh." Scott turned his attention back to Gordon, running his fingers through the ruffled hair and pressing a hand to his brother's forehead. Gordon pushed his head further into the touch, like a cat, humming softly.

"Your hand's cold," he mumbled in an explanation at Scott's amused look.

Scott frowned. "Jeez, Gordy, how high is that temperature?"

"Infirmary?" Virgil whispered as Gordon closed his eyes once more. Scott didn't need to reply aloud; a single look communicating all that Virgil needed to know.

Alan, kept far away from his sick brother much to his annoyance, was predicting Gordon would be back on his feet and swimming again by Friday. Instead the aquanaut didn't even wake up fully until late Sunday, with his temperature sky-rocketing on the Saturday. Despite Scott's instructions otherwise, John took the space-elevator down from '5 to help, arguing that they were still receiving rescue calls and with Gordon out for the count and Virgil not much better (he was exhausted after not leaving his brother's side for a full two days while Gordon's temperature was still dangerously high), they needed all the help they could get.

With Virgil practically asleep on his feet and Scott running himself into the ground through flying from rescue to rescue (Alan tried his best to help, but he wasn't fully trained, and Kayo had her own missions to fly), it was inevitable that John kicked them out of the infirmary to get some actual rest. What he hadn't accounted for was that with so much of his time spent on '5, his immune system wasn't introduced to as many diseases as his brothers; within a couple of days, he'd also come down with it. In the end, it was only Brains, Kayo and Alan who didn't come down with the sickness (Grandma was still in Paris where she'd been told to remain for fear of her also becoming infected).

Several days later, a now fully conscious John gathered them all for a meeting. Alan was sprawled at the base of the sofa, his back resting against John's legs, tossing a tennis ball from one hand to the other. Gordon, now well on the way to recovery, but still not his usual energetic self, was curled up into the corner of the sofa, his chin resting on the arm of the chair and feet tucked under a stray pillow.

"EOS has been managing Thunderbird 5 well enough," John was saying, dressed in an overly large and tatty hoodie that Gordon had found him in New York as a joke. "But she doesn't have the human side in order to comfort people."

Scott was lounged across the sofa, his feet in Virgil's lap. "So, what you're saying is that we need to train one of us up to be space monitor?"

"There's risks with every rescue," John continued, ruffling Alan's hair as his youngest brother dropped his head back against the elder blond's knees. "If we're going to continue with me taking some of the space rescues as well as Alan, you and Kayo, then we've got face the possibility that I'm going to get hurt." There was an uneasy silence. Alan, who usually protested at the hair ruffling that his brothers insisted on, pressed his head back into John's hand, picking at the loose thread of the sweatpants his older brother was wearing. "Which leaves us with just EOS." He met Virgil's concerned look and shrugged, taking a sip of his water. "I'm just saying it's something we need to think about."

"No, you're right." Scott (who other than Gordon and maybe John had been hit hardest by the flu) tugged at the drawstring of his blue Yale hoodie absentmindedly, draping one arm over the edge of the sofa so that his fingers brushed the carpet. "The question is who," he added as an afterthought.

"Gordon's our only aquanaut," Virgil put in, speaking for the first time. His voice was deeper than usual from all the coughing he'd been doing and made Alan laugh every time. "So, it can't be him."

"I could do it?" Scott offered.

John shook his head. "No, you're the Field Commander."

"Virg has to stay in Two," Gordon spoke up, shuffling further into the corner of his sofa at Virgil's confused look. "What?" He muttered defensively. "Yeah, I annoy you a lot, but I'm not blind, Virg. That move the other week with that cable car in the Andes? No way any of the rest of us could have pulled that off."

Virgil was smiling. "Thanks, Fish."

Gordon huffed, burying his face in the arm of the sofa. "Yeah, yeah." He glanced over his shoulder, grinning. "Whatever, lumberjack."

"I am _not_ a lumberjack."

"You're the one who wears plaid all the time, what are we supposed to think?"

"Better than that disaster you call a shirt."

"It's _Hawaiian,_ Virgil."

"You could use it as a torch it's so bright."

"It's a fashion statement."

"It's _awful_."

"Says the guy who wears boots on a tropical island."

"At least I wear shoes."

"Who needs shoes on their own island?"

"Normal people."

"Nope."

"Yes."

" _Gordon._ "

" _Virg_ il."

"Guys, cut it out." Scott pressed his heels into Virgil's leg as his brother made to throw the nearest cushion at the aquanaut. Gordon stuck out his tongue, cackling.

"Real mature, Gordo."

"Whoever said I was mature?"

"No one, _ever_ ," Scott muttered with a groan, pulling his hood down as far as it would go and hiding his face behind his hands.

"Actually," John announced suddenly, slamming his glass down on the side table to bring everyone's attention back to him, "I was thinking of Alan."

"Yeah, I think I missed part of the conversation." Gordon raised his head from the arm of the sofa to stare at John incredulously. "Because from over here it sounds like you just suggested having Alan as our second space monitor."

"I did."

Gordon dropped his head back to the sofa with a thud. "I'm going back to sleep."

"Good riddance."

" _Virgil."_ Scott lifted his hands from his face to shoot his usually calm sibling a warning stare. He raised himself up on one elbow to look at John who was waiting for his response. "Actually, that's not a bad idea."

"It wouldn't be for full rotations, just every now and then if for whatever reason I can't." John leaned forwards to catch a glimpse of Alan's reaction. "And you can still take Three from there, if you really need to."

Scott flopped back against the sofa, still weak from fighting off the flu. "What d'you say, Al?" He glanced across at Virgil with a knowing smile, just waiting for the explosion of excitement from the youngest blond sitting a few metres away.

Alan had been zoned out for much of the conversation, letting Virgil and Gordon's squabbling fly over his head. He'd been flying most of the rescues while his brothers had been battling the flu, and it was catching up on him. John's knees were a surprisingly comfortable pillow and he let his eyes slip shut, only jolting back to awareness at the sound of his name.

"Huh?" He fought back a yawn, blinking sleepily across at Scott.

"We're asking how you'd feel about spending some time up on Five with me," John explained leaning down and resting his arms on Alan's shoulders. "Maybe learn how to be our second space monitor. How about it?"

Alan stared up at him, wide-eyed, his gaze glimmering with excitement. "Wait, seriously?"

"If you want to."

"Scott, can I?"

Scott grinned at him, ducking away from Virgil's hand as the younger reached to tug the hood down his face again. "It's fine with me. Try not to chuck him out of an airlock, would you, Johnny?"

John pretended to think about it. "I don't know, Scott, I may have to."

"Aww, John, c'mon, it'll be _awesome_. _"_

"Training will take a couple of weeks, maybe a bit more than that," John sat back on the sofa again, Alan leaping onto the spare seat next to him. The excitement had given him some of his lost energy back but as he sank into the cushions the tiredness came crashing down on him again. "And you guys are still grounded, so we're gonna need the Sprout dirtside for a bit longer."

"'M not grounded," Gordon mumbled, only half awake. Virgil reached across and flicked the back of his head. "Hey! What was that for?"

"You were talking in your sleep."

"I wasn't asleep."

Virgil raised a brow at him doubtfully.

"So, in a month then?" John concluded, glancing across at Scott for confirmation. The eldest Tracy brother raised a hand lazily, giving him a thumbs up before dropping his arm back across his chest, and revelling in the comfort of the hoodie, slowly falling back into a sleep-like state. Virgil tapped a rhythm against his ankles subconsciously, only realising what he was doing when Scott batted his hands away.

"A month s'good," Alan murmured, listing to the left so that he was pressed to John's side, his head resting on the taller blond's shoulder. John looked down at him with a fond smile, leaning back against the sofa cushions, safe in the knowledge that they were off-duty for the time being.

* * *

A month turned into seven weeks by the time International Rescue's busy spell had ended and the whole team had been cleared for active duty with a clean bill of health. John relinquished control of Thunderbird 5 to EOS and travelled down in the Space Elevator so that he could take the ride up to satellite along with Alan. There were a few protocols he could teach his brother on the way, he figured, but mainly it had been over a month since he'd last seen the kid, and he _did_ miss his family; holograms were good, but they really weren't the same thing.

The moment the doors hissed open, John was greeted with blond blur and found his arms filled with an overexcited teenage brother.

"Hi Johnny," came the muffled greeting from where Alan had barrelled into his shoulder.

John held back his laughter, tugging Alan into a hug of his own. "Hey Allie. Anyone would think I hadn't seen you for a month."

Alan pulled back from the hug, frowning up at his brother. "Have you been eating?"

"Who are you? Virgil?"

"What? You look different."

John shook his head, pointedly ignoring EOS' amusement that manifested itself in a brief flashing of the lights that illuminated the elevator. "Is that all you're bringing?"

Alan lifted the backpack higher onto his shoulder with a half-shrug. "Yeah, it's cool. You've got ways to wash things up there, haven't you?"

John fought back a sarcastic remark, reminding himself that unlike Scott and Virgil, Alan hadn't spent much time on the space station before. He turned on his heels, letting Alan take the chair for safety, clipping a spare grapple to his suit and leaning against the side of the elevator. If Alan ran out of clothes or whatever else it was he had crammed into the neon orange backpack of his, then they could always take a trip back down dirtside to collect some more.

Alan bounded across to the chair with all the energy of a puppy, staring at the variety of holograms that appeared in front of him. John leaned across, selecting the correct ones to send the order up to EOS to withdraw the elevator back to '5. He pressed his hand to the wall to brace himself in expectation of the usual jolt as the elevator unlatched from the brackets on Tracy Island.

Alan fiddled with the edge of his uniform sash, tapping his feet subconsciously as he waited for the elevator to break the cloud cover. John kept an eye on him but focussed on sending coordinates of a new rescue EOS alerted him to (a trapped tourist group in Egypt) across to Virgil, along with suggestions of which Pod to take. As they broke through the thick layer of cloud that had been clinging to the skies over Tracy Island, bright sunlight flooded into the elevator, reflecting off the white interior.

"I should've brought sunglasses," Alan commented, leaning forwards in his seat as far as the safety-harness would let him.

John looked up from his wrist-console. "If you were Gordon you would have done so anyway."

"' _For the aesthetic,_ '" Alan mimicked his immediate older sibling, earning himself a laugh. Outside the skies were darkening, a soft amber glow illuminating the entire interior as the elevator was pulled into space, clearing the atmosphere within a few minutes. It was somewhat turbulent breaking through the upper atmosphere as it always was, and John was forced to ignore the holograms demanding his attention to ensure Alan was alright. He needn't have worried – his youngest brother was grinning, almost enjoying the bumpy ride.

The Space Elevator docked with Thunderbird 5 with a slight jolt, the airlocks hissing as the pressure stabilised. John unhooked himself from the grapple, rapping lightly on the outer door of the airlock with his knuckles. It opened with a soft hiss, and Alan, having finally freed himself from the safety harness, tumbled through after him. The outer door shut after them, a quiet _snick_ sounding as it locked before the inner door withdrew. A warm glow flooding into the airlock from Thunderbird 5 and John beckoned Alan ahead of him while he tapped in the code to lock the inner door.

"Welcome back, John." EOS voice sounded, her lights flashing green as her camera sped along the ceiling to greet him. John shot her a smile, pressing a hand to Alan's shoulder.

"Hi EOS. This is Alan, my youngest brother."

EOS' lights faded to white for a moment, flickering back to a bright green as she recognised the shorter blond from the daily video calls. "It is nice to meet you, Alan," she spoke after a moment of scanning him. "I am EOS."

"I know," Alan responded, smacking a hand to his mouth, "Sorry, that was rude." He didn't sound very sorry, and his shoulders were tense under John's hand. "Hopefully this time you won't try to kill me."

EOS went very quiet before hushed laughter echoed through her speakers. "That would be unfortunate," she commented with an amused voice.

Alan relaxed somewhat, his shoulders slumping, but his blue gaze was still guarded, his arms folded across his chest defensively. "Right." He turned back to John, his backpack dangling from one hand. "So, uh…where do I put this?"

"Follow me. EOS, monitor Thunderbird Two's progress, would you?"

"Certainly, John."

There were two main sections of Thunderbird 5, in John's mind. One half was strictly International Rescue business and was also where all the zero-gravity areas were located. The other was more for general day-to-day living, including his room (and the spare one he'd set up for Alan), the bathroom, kitchen and the gym, not forgetting the observatory which faced into deep space (and also happened to be the only room in his living quarters with zero-gee). There was also a room with a small swimming pool, installed with the idea that in a few years' time even Gordon may take a shift up on the satellite.

Alan ran his hand along the panels of the wall as they walked, stopping to walk through the doors that paused to open and slide shut behind them, connecting with a hiss. John didn't say anything for a few moments before he slowed his pace to walk beside his brother.

"Okay, let's hear it."

Alan frowned, tilting his head questioningly at the taller Tracy. "What?"

"What's your problem with EOS?"

Alan hunched his shoulders, his grip tightening about the strap of his backpack. "I don't have a problem with EOS," he muttered.

"Alan, I've known you your whole life. I know when you dislike someone."

"She's not exactly _someone_ though, is she? She's more of a _something_."

John stared straight ahead, lost in thought. "What about MAX?" He asked, presently. "Is he a thing, or a person?"

"A person."

"Why?"

"He has intelligence. And emotions."

"But so does EOS."

"MAX never tried to kill any of us," Alan snapped, glaring at him in frustration.

"There it is, that's your issue."

"I just…" Alan sighed. "I know she's your friend and all, but she tried to kill you. She tried to kill me. Why wouldn't she try again?"

"Okay." John drummed his fingers against his sash. "Think about it this way. Say you had a dog, and this dog was hurt. It's scared, in pain, and doesn't know your intentions towards it. Every human it's met so far has tried to hurt it. This dog tries to bite you." He stole a glance at his younger brother. Alan was very quiet, his sight downcast. "You take this dog home and clean it up, help it heal. It recognises you've been kind and turns out to be a really sweet-natured dog. It tries to win your affection and brings the post and such. Now you tell me, Allie, would you give the dog away because it had bitten you once?"

"What? No, of course not!"

"But it had bitten you before, why wouldn't it do so again?"

Alan smiled. He tried to hide it, but John tapped his chin with two fingers, forcing him to look up and meet the elder's searching gaze. "I'm guessing the dog is EOS, then?"

"Sure. But do you understand now?"

Alan nodded, twirling the strap of his backpack between his fingers. "Yeah. I think I do."

"Good." John tapped on the keypad in front of the final door. It flashed green, granting them entry and John pointed to the retina scanner located just above it. "I'd tell you the code, but you'd just forget it."

Alan opened his mouth to protest before snapping it shut again. John had a point.

"That room is mine," John waved a hand in the general direction of a door on the left. "Straight ahead is the gym and the bathroom. If you turn left, you'll find the kitchen and if you'll turn right then you'll find the observatory. It's zero gravity in there, just a reminder." He shot Alan a teasing grin. "If you end up floating in mid-air then I'm not going to drop everything to come and rescue you."

"Isn't that literally our job?" Alan pointed out, picking up the pace as John continued through the corridor. "And hey, I'm used to zero gravity too."

John simply shot him a knowing look before he suddenly stopped in front of a door just a few metres to the left of the one he had claimed was his own. "And this one's yours," he explained with a pat to the doorframe.

Alan squinted at the door in front of them with a frown. "What's with the lack of door handles around here?"

John pointed at the sensor above the door frame. "They recognise when someone wants to enter."

" _Right._ " Alan gave him a nod, nonchalantly waving a hand in front of the sensor. "I knew that. Totally." The door slid open at the movement revealing a relatively small room, with one wall taken up entirely by a bookcase. Each shelf was stacked full of novels; the old-fashioned kind made from paper instead of the hologram or tablet versions of 2060 schoolrooms. "Woah." He took a step closer, craning his neck to stare up at all of the different stories. "That is a…lot of books."

John laughed, rubbing at the back of his neck where his space suit finished. "Well I don't usually have guests, so this is just used as-"

"A library?"

"Actually, yes."

"No guests? You sure? No hot aliens?"

John shot him a thoroughly unimpressed look and leant back against the doorframe, watching as Alan dumped his backpack on the bed and flopped back, sinking into the mattress with a sigh.

"What about the International Rescue side of things?"

John checked his wrist console as it vibrated with a new alert. "I'll take you over there and give you the grand tour later. Right now, you get settled in." His voice took on a distracted tone. "I've got to go, but feel free to go check out the rest of the place. EOS will tell you what you're allowed to touch and when you're entering areas where you're not supposed to be."

"Hypothetically, what if I did?"

"Then hypothetically, I would be throwing you back in the Space Elevator back down to Tracy Island and training Kayo or Virgil instead."

"Got it." Alan lifted one hand in a mock salute. "Laters, Johnny."

"Don't call me Johnny," John called over his shoulder before the door slipped shut behind him. Alan let himself fall back onto the mattress, tugging one pillow closer and dropping his head onto it. The bed wasn't like his one back on Tracy Island, but given he spent the majority of his nights sleeping on the floor ordinarily, it was still comfortable.

With one arm tucked under the pillow, Alan kicked off his boots, inspecting what he could see of the room from his position on the bed. The wall opposite his bed was taken up by the bookcase, but to his right was a small chest of drawers with a floating blue lamp on it. There was also a leather chair, worn after much use, next to the bookcase, just out of the way of the door. A stack of three books was perched on the arm and attached into the wall just above this was a hologram projector.

Never one for order (which drove Virgil crazy), Alan dragged his things out of the backpack and shoved them into the chest of drawers without checking what had gone where. He wasn't about to be sent out on any rescues in the next week at least, he figured, and changed out of his IR uniform into a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved white t-shirt; he was used to the tropical humidity of the South Pacific and while Thunderbird 5 was by no means cold, there was a certain chill to the air that made the idea of wearing shorts seem ludicrous.

Half-way through attempting to tug his shirt over his head for the second time (he'd fallen over the first time), it suddenly struck him that he had no idea how much control of Thunderbird 5 EOS had. While John had reassured him somewhat about her intentions, the idea of the AI being present at all times, even when he was asleep, was unsettling.

"Uh, EOS?" Alan stepped up to the hologram projector, balancing on the chair below in order to peer into the lens. "Hello?" The projector purred into life, presenting with a variety of options, such as different people to vid-call, but EOS' usual voice was not present, and a sneak look around revealed that her multitude of cameras about the Thunderbird were also nowhere to be seen. Alan leapt down off the chair, landing on the leather padding with a thud, shoulders slumping with relief when he realised he wasn't about to be spied upon by his brother's creepy AI in his sleep.

"Well this is fun," he muttered, tipping back in the chair and eyeing the sensor above the door. While he was sure that there were _some_ books amongst the collection to his left that he would find interesting, it was his first time up on Thunderbird 5 (officially) and the burning sense of curiosity wasn't about to die down any time soon. Shoving his backpack under the bed, and nudging an overflowing drawer shut with one socked foot (like Gordon, he did not believe in shoes), he waved a hand at the sensor and padded through the open door into the corridor.

"Um, hello?" Alan called out, hesitantly making his way down the corridor until he came to a junction. Recalling John's explanation about which door was which, he made his way towards the Observatory. While he spent most of his time in a literal rocket, the equipment on board Thunderbird 5 provided a much more in depth look at deep space.

"Seriously, what is John's issue with door handles?" He wondered aloud, rolling his eyes as he was forced to acknowledge another movement sensor. He'd barely taken one step into the room when the doors shut behind him and then he was swept off his feet into mid-air. "Right. Zero-grav." He struggled to kick himself upright. "I totally didn't forget about that."

After he'd finally managed to float the right way up (he was getting to used to using grapples and his space-board, he realised), Alan took in the sights about him. "Wow. Okay, this is awesome." The Observatory was _massive_ , and round in shape. The walls, ceiling and floor were made of a clear substance that allowed practically 360-degree views. When his gaze focussed on any particular patch of space, the panel it was visible through would zoom in, providing a closer look, a hologram readout to the side explaining further information about the stars in the vicinity.

While the views were impressive, Alan found himself enjoying the acrobatics possible in zero-gravity more. Out on rescue he barely got chance to appreciate space, but off duty, up on Thunderbird, the possibilities for fun were endless. "No wonder John spends so much time up here," he thought aloud, leisurely folding himself into another backflip that he would never have been able to achieve down on Earth.

Twenty minutes later he emerged from the Observatory to wander down another corridor, coming to halt at another set of doors. He waved a hand at the sensors, rising onto his toes to tap on it when the doors did not open.

"You are not permitted to access this area."

"Holy shit," Alan clutched a hand to his chest, stumbling backwards. "EOS!" He whined. "You made me jump."

"I'm sorry." She didn't sound it; her tones were filled with laughter. "But I must repeat, you are not allowed in there."

"Why?" Alan frowned up at the sensor where he guessed she had a camera hidden. AIs were sneaky; years of living with MAX had provided him with plenty of evidence for that.

"Only International Rescue personnel can enter this area."

Alan shot the sensor a glare, huffing. "I _am_ International Rescue personnel." He waved his IR watch at her line of vision. "See? I've got the cool toys and everything."

"My bad," EOS added sarcastically. "I meant it's for International Rescue personnel six foot and over."

Alan stared at her, unblinking for a moment, trying to work out whether he'd heard her correctly. "That is _so_ not true." He folded his arms angrily. "Fine. Then can you call John for me?"

"That is not advised. He is busy coordinating rescues at this moment."

"EOS, I swear I will get my laser and cut through this door."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Who programmed you to be this annoying?"

"That would be John."

"Just call him, would you?"

"No."

"Oh my god, I actually hate you."

"EOS," an amused voice reprimanded the AI. The door swept to the side to grant access to the next corridor where John was waiting, having listened to much of the exchange before deciding to intervene. He glanced Alan up and down.

"What?"

John shook his head. "What happened to your uniform?"

"Took it off. I'm not on duty, _so._ "

"But you're still…never mind. Come on."

"Grand tour time?"

"Unless you'd rather argue with EOS some more?"

* * *

One of the advantages of having EOS around, John had learnt quickly, was that she had access to every last trace of information available on any servers across the world. This meant that she dedicated a good portion of her processors to understanding humans and what they required to keep at their peak health, something which she then spent much of her time nagging John about. During times when International Rescue was particularly busy and the hours and days blurred into one, while his brothers down on Earth (or off Earth, depending on whether '3 was in use) had each other to remind them to grab a snack between flights, John was too busy coordinating different rescues and had a habit of forgetting basic human requirements, which normally resulted in a certain over-protective AI throwing bagels at his head.

Having Alan around meant that he had to remember meal-times, especially given that the teenager was almost always hungry.

"So, do we get ready meals every day?" Alan was asking, bounding alongside John. The elder blond was reminded of an overexcited puppy, and before he could get a word in edgeways, the teen was off again. "Pizza? Johnny, do we get pizza every day? _Awesome!_ "

"No, Al," John sighed, waving a hand at EOS' camera as he guided Alan into the kitchen. "I'm going to teach you to cook."

"Wait, what?" Alan skidded to a halt, narrowly avoiding crashing into the nearby wall. "You have actual food up here? Besides bagels?"

"No Alan, I live entirely off toasted wheat products."

"That was sarcasm."

"Yes."

Alan ducked under his brother's arm to peer at the meagre contents of the fridge in front of them, frowning at the supplies available. "This is the smallest fridge _ever_ ," he commented, poking at a pack of suspicious-looking mixed vegetables.

John batted his hand away, shoving the younger Tracy out of the way as he stole a different packet out of the fridge and onto the tiny make-shift countertop next to it. "That's because you live in a household of seven," he explained, spreading the supplies over the worksurface in front of him. "You could probably live in the fridge on Tracy Island."

"I've seen smaller fridges," Alan pointed out, lifting himself onto the countertop despite John's protests. "Remember when Scott was living with what's-his-name at Yale? They had a tiny fridge. And I never saw yours because we always ate off campus whenever I visited you at Harvard, but I bet that was small too."

"I am confused," EOS interjected, her ring of lights illuminating with a silvery glow. "Are fridges a usual topic of conversation amongst humans?"

"No," John sighed. "Alan's just weird." Before his younger brother could interrupt, he pointed at the saucepan he'd already retrieved earlier that day, in preparation for the evening. "Make yourself useful and fill that up."

"With what?"

John shot him a dark look, the unspoken words of _are-you-kidding-me_ evident in his stare. He tossed an unopened packet of pasta at the younger blond, taking a deep breath.

"Ah, water. Got it."

"Try not to set fire to anything," John muttered under his breath, staring down at the ingredients in front of him and resisting the urge to give up and spend the rest of his night in the Observatory. For a moment there was silence and he continued to chop vegetables with a sense of hope that Alan may have succeeded in his task. Then, with a tap on his shoulder, he heard the shuffling of feet and turned to find Alan awkwardly holding out the saucepan which was noticeably empty.

"The taps aren't normal."

John stared blankly at him. "What?"

"I said the taps aren't normal."

"Yes, I heard that part."

"I think they're alien."

"Brains designed every part of Thunderbird Five, including the taps, so I can assure you that they're not alien."

Alan thought about this for second before whispering, "Are we sure Brains isn't an alien?" He deposited the saucepan on the worktop. "I mean, we rarely see him eat, he spends like _all_ his time in the lab, I've never seen him sleep, his best friend is a robot and this one time I saw him talking to one of Gordon's lizards."

"They're called bearded dragons."

"And it _waved_ at him. It lifted its lil' claw and did this," Alan demonstrated with his own hand, dangerously close to John's face.

"You know, technically, my best friend is a robot, too."

"Yeah, but we already knew you were an alien, Johnny."

"Thanks." John frowned at the saucepan. "How did we get from taps to aliens?"

"Brains."

"Alright, zombie."

"Was that a joke? Did you just make a joke?"

"Oh God."

"John, you made a joke! I'm so proud!"

"You are insufferable."

"Thanks."

"It wasn't a compliment."

Alan shrugged. "Okay, well, I'm taking it as one. Anyway," he clapped his hands. "Taps. There are two weird panels in the wall that flashed blue at me, but I wasn't sure what they were."

"They were the taps."

"Why can't you have normal taps?"

"Alan I am going to personally throw you out of both airlocks."

After a very long fifteen minutes (under normal conditions i.e. without any irritating younger brothers to disturb him, it would have taken John six minutes and thirty-two point oh-five seconds), they finally managed to complete the cooking. John heaped pasta into a bowl and all but shoved it into his brother's chest. Alan yelped a protest as he fumbled to get a grip on the hot plastic, stumbling out of the kitchen amidst John's mumbled complaints.

Taking a step back, John surveyed the (small) expanse of his kitchen with a dismayed groan, running a hand through his hair. Somehow flour had ended up all over the floor, despite the fact they hadn't even used any, and there was a tomato coloured mark splashed across the ceiling. Resigning himself to the intense clean-up job he would face later, John spooned the rest of the pasta into his own bowl and left to find where Alan had disappeared to.

With EOS' help, John finally tracked down his younger blond counterpart in the library (or his room, John reminded himself). Alan was perched on the bed, his back pressed against the wall, the lights set at a dim blue glow as they usually did at night. It was possible to change them, and Alan knew this, but the sci-fi appearance the lighting presented was too much of an appeal.

"Hey," John greeted him, nudging a crumpled shirt off the end of the mattress so that he could sit down. Alan lifted his fork in greeting before returning to stabbing another piece of pasta. His eyes were narrowed in concentration as though the secrets of the universe were hidden within the plastic bowl in his hands. "So, opinion so far?"

"On Thunderbird Five?" Alan mumbled through a mouthful of pasta. "Awesome." He frowned down at the bowl, biting his lower lip nervously. "Actually, it's a lot harder than I thought it would be. Not the entire space part, I'm kind of used to that, but coordinating rescues, different calls, what each alert means and all those holograms…it's just…"

"Overwhelming?" John suggested, stretching out his legs across the mattress in front of him. "I know. The first month or so up here is _crazy_. I know it's stressful. But it's only your first day, and you'll get the hang of it. If you're clever enough to pass your exams and pilot a rocket at the same time, then I'm sure you can manage Thunderbird Five."

Alan remained silent for a moment, closing his eyes against the blue glow. "Yeah," he whispered after a second, the beginnings of a smile visible on his face. "It's just the first day."

"Exactly."

Alan drew his knees closer to his chest to rest the bowl on his jeans. He'd finished the food already and John had no doubts that there were chocolate and cereal bars hidden somewhere in the depths of the backpack that was partially sticking out from under the bed.

"Why doesn't EOS like me?"

John contemplated the question over another bite of pasta. "She doesn't have a problem with you. She's unsure as to how to act around you which is probably due to your obvious dislike of her at first."

"She did try to kill us," Alan muttered, shaking his head at John's searching look. "No, I'm over that. Really. I just don't get why she's being so weird."

"Try speaking with her. Have a normal conversation. It's like meeting a new person; you don't act like old friends immediately." John placed his empty bowl lightly onto the blanket next to him, dropping his head back against the wall. The panels glowed softly under the touch. "You want to know a secret?" Alan looked at him expectantly. "She's scared of you."

"Seriously?" Alan leant forwards, eager to hear more. There was a sense of genuine confusion about him as he thought back over his previous interactions with the resident AI. "Why?"

"She's still learning about the world. She honestly wants to make a good impression because she doesn't want to be forced to live by herself again."

"How is locking me out of certain rooms and making fun of my height making a good impression?"

"Well." John couldn't help but laugh at that. "She's still learning about humour."

"No kidding." Alan moved his bowl from his knees and onto the sheet next to John's, fighting back a yawn as he dropped his chin into his hand. "What's next?"

"You go take a shower," John told him, collecting the cutlery and stretching as he uncurled from his position on the bed. "I'll clear up the mess you made and then we'll call home."

Alan hesitated in the doorway. "Uh, are the taps normal?"

John shoved him lightly down the corridor. "Just go take a shower, Al."

* * *

Clean-up didn't take anywhere near as long as he had been expecting, and John found himself lounging across Alan's bed waiting for the teen to reappear so that he could start the vid-call. It felt strange not to be calling Tracy Island from the International Rescue part of the satellite. He retrieved one of the older books which he hadn't read in a good year and settled down to wait. Six chapters later, Alan finally reappeared, now dressed in sweatpants and a white t-shirt, a storm-grey towel draped around his shoulders to catch the water droplets trickling down his neck from still-wet blond hair.

"Ready?" John greeted him without looking up from his book. Alan dropped onto the bed with a sigh, rubbing the towel across his hair vigorously. John took the lack of reply as an affirmative and tapped his wrist-console to connect to the hologram projector across the room. There was a beat of silence before it purred into life, several avatars springing into being.

"Hey John," Virgil was the first to speak, slouched into a corner of the sofa. He'd clearly been back from his rescue for a while as opposed to Gordon who was sat on the floor, still in uniform, a half-empty bottle of cola partially hidden to his left to avoid a lecture about fizzy drinks before dinner from Grandma. "How's the trouble-maker?"

Alan pushed the towel back from his forehead, glaring at his brother's hologram. "Hey! I'm not that bad. Gordon's worse."

Gordon did not deny this, instead shooting him a wicked grin. "Hell yes."

"Gordon, if there's flour in my hairdryer again, I swear I will throw you out of Two with no regret."

"I like to live life on the edge."

The usual banter carried on for a few minutes, a couple of sarcastic remarks from Kayo who joined them halfway through earning some laughs. A bedraggled looking Scott appeared, his uniform drenched in mud, almost falling down the steps to the sofa if it weren't for Virgil's arm shooting across to catch him mid-stumble.

Gordon took one look at him and burst out laughing. "Did you have a nice swim?"

"Shut up." Scott muttered, retreating past him to head to the bathroom for a shower.

"It's a good look, really, Scotty. Definitely gonna get all the girls with that one."

Scott, too tired to think of a response, flipped him off and disappeared into the corridor. There was a trail of dirty footprints left across the floorboards in his wake and an enraged shriek from their Grandma as she discovered them had everyone wincing.

Ten minutes later (MAX had cleaned up any traces of remaining mud), Scott returned from his shower and collapsed onto the sofa. Virgil shot Gordon a warning look as the younger appeared to consider some sort of trick.

"How's Five going, Alan?" Scott asked, still with his eyes shut. Virgil tapped his shoulder, raising a brow and Scott lifted his feet onto the younger's lap, sliding down the sofa to rest his head on the arm of the chair. Gordon didn't question their silent communication; his brothers were weird like that, and he'd accepted it a long time ago.

Alan took a moment to gather his thoughts and respond, slumped against John's shoulder. John watched him with a knowing smile; he'd witnessed the younger blond grow more tired as the call carried on and he predicted that it wouldn't be long before Alan fell asleep completely.

"Awesome," Alan finally replied, his damp hair drying in spikes as he ran his fingers through it. "Did you know John has this really cool observatory? It's zero-grav in there as well."

"Uh huh. Having fun then?"

"I mean, John did threaten to throw me out an airlock, but yeah."

Scott blinked sleepily at his brothers' avatars. "Try not to kill the kid, Johnny."

"Yeah, don't," Gordon chimed in. "What? I don't want to be the youngest."

Alan retorted with something that was no doubt uncomplimentary, but his words were muffled by John's shoulder. Deciding it was time his brother got some actual sleep, John alerted his brothers that the call was about to end and cut the transmission to a chorus of goodnights.

"I wasn't _that_ tired," Alan whispered, tugging a blanket over his shoulders and falling face-first into his pillow. John paused in the doorway, watching him for a moment with a fond smile.

"Of course you weren't," he agreed softly. "Night, Alan."

For a second there was silence and John was left wondering if his brother was already asleep. Then, "Night, Johnny."

* * *

EOS, it transpired, had come to enjoy Alan's company, and, much to the youngest Tracy's surprise, Alan had come to enjoy her friendship as well. Alan was a fast learner, but there were times when there were several rescues all at once that needed coordinating, with people of all different languages and nationalities that only John could attend to, leaving Alan by himself for a good couple of hours. It was during this time that his friendship with EOS began, small comments to each other turning into fully fledged conversations that carried on into everyday life on board the Thunderbird. John watched with a strange sense of pride as his youngest brother and the AI that was essentially his own creation bonded over video games and discussions of comic characters which soon evolved into conversations about space and the world in general. EOS, John had no doubt, would be sad to see Alan return to Earth when the month came to an end.

"He is very small for a human," EOS mused one morning, causing John to inhale bagel crumbs.

"Who, Alan?"

EOS flashed her lights in response. "Yes. Are all humans this small?"

"He's still a teenager," John replied, leaning back to float in mid-air. He tossed his half-eaten bagel from hand to the other. "He's still growing. Don't tease him about his height, he doesn't like it. Probably because Scott and I are so tall."

"You are tall, for humans?"

"Yes." John grinned, a new thought suddenly dawning on him. "Tell you what," he mentioned with a mischievous expression. "Ask Gordon about his height. I'm sure he'd _love_ to talk to you about it." He felt somewhat bad about the offended onslaught he had no doubt booked the AI in for as EOS hummed an affirmative, but the possibility of annoying Gordon was always worth it.

* * *

It was the Wednesday of Alan's final week on Thunderbird 5 when John got another callout. It was rare that he took the exosuit out but rescues near '5 were becoming more and more regular and he was gradually growing used to taking a few missions of his own. Alan was responding to distress calls while John was helping Virgil find the best route into the collapsed wing of a hospital that a tornado had just barrelled through.

John briefly heard Alan call his name and sent the final schematics of the wing in question across to Virgil along with a couple of warnings about certain hazards he may come across before turning to face his younger brother.

Alan was floating, surrounded by holograms with EOS hovering about his shoulders like an overbearing parent. John shot her a look (she was becoming clingier as the month went by) and she skulked away to continue monitoring the rest of the globe.

"What have you got?"

Alan tapped the nearest hologram. "A lunar research vessel was taking off from the surface of the close-side of the moon when one of their engines malfunctioned. It spun them off course and they crashed back towards the surface of the moon, causing further damage. They launched escape pods but one of them failed and now it's jammed."

"Alright," John tapped on the scans, checking where the escape pod was located on the ship in question. "I'll take the exosuit over and release that pod. You keep an eye on things here."

"FAB."

EOS followed him while he waited for the exosuit to assemble around him. She was always nervous when he took the exosuit out, never one to trust anything completely, as seen previously with her doubts about the space elevator.

"Keep an eye on Alan," John instructed her as yellow metal jolted into position about his shoulders.

"He is capable of managing Five by himself."

"Yes," he agreed, attempting to turn around so he could see her lens. "But this will be the first time he's been alone on Five."

EOS' ring of lights flashed green in agreement. For a brief moment there was silence other than the whirring of parts connecting and locking into place and then controls were lifting to meet his palms. He curled his fingers around them in a tight grip and took a breath, closing his eyes. No matter how many times he went EVA, leaving the relative safety of Thunderbird 5 always had his pulse quickening.

Leaving the airlock far behind him, John surveyed the nearby area of space. There was another station a little way below on its usual orbital path and further to his right stood one of the newest tourist attractions; the Solaire Échapper, a modern design of ship which took those who could afford the highly-priced tickets on a month-long tour of the closest planets to Earth, including a stop at the Mars base.

The holographic display lit up on his visor with the appropriate information, coordinates illuminated a brighter green as opposed to the other info. With a tap to his wrist console, John set the course for the lunar research vessel and gradually applied pressure to the throttle. Flying in zero gravity took a lot of getting used to, and it was all too easy to overtake the target, but the massive station he was approaching was hard to miss.

"Thunderbird Five to John."

"Reading you, Five."

"Just checking in. I'm monitoring your progress and have sent the escape pod's location to your console."

John glanced down, examining the schematics and looking back to the ship to compare the two. Changing his trajectory further to the right, he swooped low over the hull to check for further damage. Other than leaking oxygen tanks which he swerved around to avoid being blown into deep space by the resulting force, the vessel was remarkably intact.

"FAB," he replied to Alan, easing off on the throttle. Gliding closer to the gleaming metal, he noted the brightly marked escape pod sending vibrations through the hull as it struggled to free itself from the rest of the ship. "I have eyes on the target."

He changed his flight path to make contact with the escape pod, pressing one hand to the side and adjusting his radio frequency to try and raise one of the crew members inside. "This is International Rescue, is everyone alright?"

There were the usual thankful and relieved greetings and praise for their rescuer. "Yes, everyone is alright," a woman's voice responded. "Shaken up, I dare say, and we'll be happy to get out of here, but there are no injuries."

"That's some good news. I'll have you out of here in just a moment."

John returned to the base of the pod, frowning as he ran a scan of the underlying hull. "Thunderbird Five?"

"Yes?"

"It's the docking clamp which has failed. The good news is that the escape pod won't have any further problems once it's released."

"And the bad news?"

John leant back as best he could in zero-gravity, running a scan down the rest of the vessel. "I'm going to have enter the ship in order to carry out these repairs."

There was an uneasy silence. "Can't you just kick it?" Alan muttered, sending a new distress call over to Gordon in Thunderbird 4. "Always worked for Dad."

John laughed. "Unfortunately, this is going to need more of a gentle touch. See you on the other side Thunderbird Five."

"FAB."

The hatch was partially jammed, and John found himself using his jetpack to force the wheel to turn. The airlock down the opposite end of the ship was damaged, so despite pressing himself to the side of the vessel in preparation for the outburst of pressure, John was able to enter without a problem. Pressing a hand to the sides of the inner corridor, he floated through the vessel towards the escape pods. The wiring system was a mess of sparking controls and he landed lightly next to it, wincing as he saw the state it was in. Maybe Alan had been right, he mused, and the only way around this was to force the docking clamp to release?

The lighting strip running parallel to him flickered dangerously before plunging the entire room into darkness. The glow from his suit illuminated the area and John shifted the angle he was floating at, so he could grip onto the wires. From what he could work out, the docking clamp had started to run as usual when the system had short-circuited and now was jammed unless he could bring it back online.

To anyone else, it would have appeared impossible. Luckily, this was John, and this was the series of exploration ships that he'd dealt with in the past. Brains and Virgil weren't the only ones who knew how to rewire vehicles.

"Well," he whispered to himself, grinning as he set to work. "This is going to be fun."

He made quick work of the primary wiring, taking the rest of the systems which were still running on the ship offline and rerouting that energy into the escape pod mechanisms. There was the possibility that he was about to give himself a massive electric shock, John noted, but he had faith in his work and pressed the final two wires together despite this.

A massive shudder ran through the lunar research ship. It caused something behind him to break away and come crashing down on his jetpack, taking out the thrusters. John fumbled to maintain his grip on the wires until he was certain the escape pod had been released.

"John?"

Cursing as something sharp sliced into his suit below his left shoulder, John scrabbled at his radio to answer. "Yes, I'm here." A warning light lit up on the side of his helmet, _oxygen loss, suit perforation detected, immediate action advised…_

"The escape pod is away." Alan's voice turned from cheerful to a serious, almost cold tone. "I'm getting readouts from your suit…"

"Uh," John twisted to try and see, the metal of his exosuit pressing uncomfortably against his cheek as he attempted to do so. "Yes. I may have a problem."

"Affirmative. Want me to get Three?"

Despite the fact he was floating in a dead research ship with rapidly diminishing oxygen, John couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at how professional his brother sounded. The thought lasted for a second before another alarm sounded and he decided that _yes, he was in serious trouble._

"No. You'd never get here in time." John swung away from the control panel, kicking off from the floor to send himself back through the ship towards the hatch. "New problem."

"What now?"

"The force of the escape pod releasing sent the ship into a spin. I've got no power to my thrusters. I can't leave from here without crashing into the surface of the moon, or being flung into deep space, neither of which sound like fun."

Alan growled something under his breath, bringing up a hologram of the roll the ship had been pushed into. "Okay. So, new plan?"

"Working on it."

Living on a satellite for much of the year meant that John was adaptable, something which he'd only improved upon since his childhood (much like Gordon). "If this hatch is a no go and the airlock is jammed…"

"Yes?"

"Then I'll make a new exit."

"Okay. Wait, _what_?"

John blocked out whatever Alan continued saying, pushing himself away from the hatch towards the other end of the ship that was facing towards Earth despite the spinning motions. The laser on his exosuit had not been compromised, much to his relief, and sliced through the metal with a steady red beam. Gripping onto the handles of the panel behind him, John slammed his boots into the newly cut metal plate, tightening his hold as the air rushed out of the ship along with the piece, spiralling into the darkness and out of sight.

"Now what? You can't get back to Five without a ship or working thrusters."

"If I make the jump then it'll propel me towards Earth."

"Until you burn up in the atmosphere. Good plan."

"Reposition Thunderbird Five. I'll collide with station and there won't be a need for my exosuit."

"I have never used Five's engines before. If we mess up at all…"

"Let's try not to mess up, then." John could almost _hear_ Alan's doubt over the comms link. "Look, I don't have enough oxygen to wait for Three and with my exosuit as damaged as it is, there is no way I can make a controlled flight to Five. You can do this. It's just physics."

"Have I mentioned that I really hate it when you say that?"

John huffed a laugh. "Many times." His gloves squeaked on the handles behind him where the metal was gradually bending. Even through his helmet, he could imagine he could taste the stench of fuel that clung to the air where it was ebbing out of the tanks along with the oxygen. One spark from the wiring that remained still uncovered and it could all ignite.

An alarm resounded about his helmet and he winced, closing his eyes tightly as though it could block out the sound. "Alan, you almost ready? We're really cutting it close with the oxygen here." No sooner had he spoken than several things happened at once; the handle gave way on the panel that he was clinging onto, the wires back in the now empty pod section sparked, catching the oxygen spilled into the ship alight, and John found himself catapulted into the abyss of space.

"John? Five, respond." Alan adjusted the gravity so that he could run into the next room rather than floating significantly slower, EOS hot on his heels. "EOS, what's my time window?"

"Estimated six minutes."

"Keep trying to boost the signal." He swept the holograms to control the engines into being, noting the emergency shutoff button to his far right as he did so. Adjusting '5's trajectory was tricky, especially when combined with the sense of panic he was trying to fight off.

"Orbital path has been cleared." EOS announced, her voice unusually quiet. "Oxygen levels dropping fast."

"Leave it on the screen," Alan snapped at her, eyes narrowing as he leant in closer, holograms clutched between his hands. "Dammit, we're still too heavy. Ditch any extra supplies and divert all power from non-IR areas to the thrusters."

"Are you-"

"Just do it!"

Thunderbird 5 swept through the skies, the planet below passing in a wave of blue and green blurs. Alan checked his brother's current trajectory again and clenched his fists, taking a deep breath.

"EOS take control. I'm going EVA."

There were no complaints of how this was _not advised_ or _too dangerous_. EOS simply opened the airlock for him as he locked his helmet into place and grabbed his spaceboard on the way past. Catching his heel on the edge of the hatch, he turned himself to aim a grapple at Thunderbird 5. It connected, locking onto one of the many panels, and crouching low on his spaceboard, Alan sped around the satellite to the opposite side.

"Come on John," he murmured, frowning as he struggled to catch sight of his missing brother. "Where are you?"

"Enhanced vision activated," EOS announced in his ear. Alan hovered above the gravity ring, one hand pressed to the side of his spaceboard. He scrutinised the space that he could see to no avail until a flicker of light caught his attention, reflecting off something metallic.

"He's going to miss," Alan realised aloud, a horrified AI echoing the thought. Acting on instinct alone, he shot away from Thunderbird 5, pressing low to the spaceboard as he headed towards the flashes of light. His radio remained silent and he tried to ignore the oxygen readouts, reaching out only to miss. Spinning around at a steep curve, Alan all but collided with his brother, releasing John's exosuit in order to tug him closer and onto the spaceboard. Worrying about space junk was the least of his concerns.

Alan was unaware of unhooking the grapple, or the hiss of the airlock opening. He tumbled through, landing on the floor of Thunderbird 5 with an undignified yelp. Tearing his helmet off, he tossed it to his side, leaning forwards and releasing John's as well.

"John?"

"Gimme a mo'." John sucked in another breath of the cool oxygen, opening his eyes to see an anxious-looking Alan staring down at him, EOS hovering above them, her lights white with fright.

Alan sat back on his heels, shoulders slumping, his breathing still erratic. He clasped one hand to his face, hiding his expression, but the minute trembles running through his figure told the story well enough.

John gave him a tentative smile, reaching up to tap his chin with two fingers. "Allie, I'm right here. You did good."

"Y-yeah," Alan replied shakily, still not moving his hand, but shifting his weight from his heels to his knees so he could help John to sit up. "You're an idiot," he exclaimed after a second, punching John in the shoulder. The elder blond frowned at him; the hit hadn't hurt, but he wanted an explanation, something which Alan was more than happy to give him. "You should have found a way to prevent further oxygen leak and waited for Three."

"No time."

"I would have got there in time. Seriously, you guys spend so much time trying to protect me that you forget it's my job to save you too."

John lifted himself up, the previous lack of oxygen making the movement seem strenuous. "Alan, look at me."

Alan glared at him, red-rimmed eyes bright with worry and frustration.

"We trust you. Completely. But when you're the one in charge of a rescue, you're the one calling the shots. You make the call you think will have the best outcome. That was what I did. It had nothing to do with your capabilities. I trusted you to catch me and you did. You're as much a part of International Rescue as me or Scott, Virgil and Gordon."

"Doesn't feel like it sometimes. I don't even have my own ship. Technically." Alan sniffed, pressing close to John's side as the elder blond pulled him into a tight hug. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Hitting you."

"Don't worry about it." John gave EOS a nod and her lights turned green as he confirmed that he was alright. Alan drew his knees close to his chest, resting his chin on top with a resigned sigh. John ruffled the tousled blond hair but for once Alan didn't protest. "Do you know something? You're officially our second space monitor."

"If you almost dying was some sort of test I'm going to hit you again."

* * *

 ** _Are you ready for the final chapter?_**

 ** _Review?_**

 ** _Kat x._**


	6. Thunderbird Three

**_It's finally here! After over two weeks of brainstorming ideas (I had several different ways that this chapter could go), writing and then deleting scenes and picking the ones I liked the most to try and cut this monster down from the 25k it reached at one point. I was tempted to split it in two but I didn't want to drag it out. Hopefully you'll enjoy this chapter._**

 ** _Thank you to all of you who reviewed, favourited, followed and read the previous chapters. I genuinely appreciate you guys (even I'm too shy to message you and say thank you personally!). It's strange to think that this fic is finally over - I think this is the longest time I've spent on a chapter trying to perfect it, so I hope it lives up to any expectations._**

 ** _Warnings: several f-bombs. And angst. And everything._**

 ** _So without further ado, I give you:_**

* * *

 _Thunderbird 3_

In the direct midpoint of the Indian Ocean, a dark shape flitted through the waves, cutting through the water faster than seemed possible, exceeding the speeds of any ordinary marine-craft, even the newest designs of 2060. Less than twenty metres behind the craft and hastily closing the gap, the lithe form of an aircraft sped along the trail of white-crested waves left in the craft's wake. With a roar, the engines of the water-based craft increased, and the engines of the aircraft above copied the action within a second. The blue-glow of the turbo-jets reflected off the waves below as the aircraft lowered, landing-gear extended to grip onto the rim of the ship when a loud roar sounded about the area, sending shockwaves flooding back from the site.

With a steady throbbing throughout the deck, the craft rose into the air, VTOLs whining at the speed they were forced to work at.

"Thunderbird Shadow to GDF and Thunderbird Five, target is airborne."

"Shadow, please repeat."

Kayo retracted the landing gear and diverted power to the engines once more. Thunderbird Shadow shot off in pursuit, the resulting force pressing her back in her seat, the safety harness digging in across her chest painfully. "Target is now airborne. Require tracking immediately." The latter sentence was directed towards the first of the two avatars hovering above her control-column and John did not disappoint. A map of the surrounding sea illuminated to her left, a series of yellow dashes revealing the expected trajectory of the craft. "Thanks, Five."

"Remember, the target is armed and dangerous. Use caution when approaching."

Kayo took a moment to shoot her adopted brother a scalding glare. "Wow, you don't say? That was made clear to me the first time they tried to shoot me down."

John held up his hands. "Hey, I'm just reminding you."

"Uh huh." Kayo eased forwards on the throttle, swerving away from her current course and instead making a curved flight around to cut off the enemy craft. Rising above the scattered clouds, she reached out, tapping the reinforced glass of her windshield. It darkened at her touch, combatting the sudden influx of bright sunlight and Kayo grinned. "Much better."

Thunderbird Shadow remained stationary, hovering upon the same spot for a good thirty seconds when Kayo felt the familiar tingling down the back of her spine. "Something's wrong."

John looked up from monitoring his brothers' progress in Kenya. "What do you mean?"

She leant forwards in her seat as best she could (Thunderbird Shadow was not built for comfort and the size of her cockpit spoke measures of this fact), scanning the seas below with a piercing green gaze for any signs of life. The dark mass of metal hull that she was expecting was nowhere to be seen; the only movements in sight were the rising and falling motions of sloping waves. A stray gull flitted across the ocean surface, but still the seas remained obstinately empty.

"Where is he?"

Kayo wasn't aware she had spoken until John echoed her words. When she looked up, the blond was frowning, hands surrounded by holograms that remained as unhelpful as the line of sight from Shadow's cockpit. Kayo tapped her fingers along her knee, tension leaking into her posture as further unease ran down her back. "False signal?" She suggested, moving to turn Thunderbird Shadow away from the patch of sea.

John didn't respond at first. "Maybe," he acknowledged with a sigh.

"I'm going to take another look around and scout the area some more."

"FAB."

Kayo glanced down at the hologram projector. The GDF hadn't checked in for some time and that in itself was both unusual and had her on edge. She rolled her shoulders, wincing as something clicked and rubbed at her eyes, fighting back a wave of tiredness. This mission had been called in during the early hours and she was longing for a shower and a good night's rest. She wrapped her hands about the controls and eased Thunderbird Shadow into a controlled dive, keeping low to the waves to avoid detection if she did happen to come across the other craft, and headed further along the line of predicted trajectory.

Nothing cropped up on her scanners and her dash remained free of alerts. Kayo brushed her hair out of her face and yawned, resting her chin in one hand. It didn't make sense; it was a big craft, and while it was fast, it didn't have the ability to disappear into thin air. She tightened her grip on the controls, her knuckles turning white with the pressure. Frustration was not an emotion she was unused to, but she _had_ expected this to be quick drop in and capture mission.

Something glimmered on the horizon. Kayo sat bolt upright, zooming in and scanning to identify the origins. It was metallic and blinked in the sunlight, with multiple signs of life flickering into being across the scans. It was only when she increased Shadow's flight level that she realised it was a city. Clearly, she'd flown further than she had thought. "John, where am I?"

"Approaching Colombo, Sri Lanka."

Kayo took a deep breath, dread crashing down on her in waves. "I still don't know where this guy is, but I can't let him enter the city. Thousands of people would be put at risk. I had to create a diversion, draw him back out to sea."

John didn't question her, gaze flickering across readouts as he considered the different possibilities and their outcomes within a matter of seconds. Sending multiple suggestions across to Shadow's hologram projector, he waited for Kayo's reply, running his fingers through his hair in agitation. It wasn't often that he acknowledged that he was stressed but the other rescue was going less than smoothly, and Penelope was also requesting his help.

Kayo rested her elbows against her knees, watching the light play across the glass expanse of the skyscraper opposite. From her position, high in the sky, the people below appeared like ants, scattering about a local market, and even on the level of the skyscraper in front, those working at desks seemed so very small and fragile. Kayo didn't know these people or anything about their lives, but she felt the familiar urge to protect them as she did all those that International Rescue encountered.

She was so busy deciding on the best plan and her next move that she didn't notice the glinting metal of another aircraft until it was almost upon her. Close proximity alerts rang out in a deafening cry across the cockpit and Kayo slammed forwards on the controls, plunging her Thunderbird into a dive towards the ocean before flipping the aircraft out of the spin and away from the city, praying that the enemy craft would follow.

"Thunderbird Shadow, status report."

"Little busy here." Of all the times for the GDF to decide to start working and check in! Kayo cast a glance out of her windshield and checked her scanners to be sure that the other aircraft was still in pursuit. It was gaining steadily on her (had it _increased_ speed?) and Kayo felt the first feeling of doubt since she had began flying in Thunderbird Shadow that maybe this time her aircraft was not the superior.

The city faded into the distance and Kayo felt a sense of relief. At least the people of Colombo were no longer in imminent danger. Another alert chimed, and she swerved to the right sharply, avoiding the screeching of a missile that careered past, just missing the left wing. With a muttered curse, Kayo pushed Shadow into gaining altitude, aiming for the thinner air where she would have the advantage.

"Shadow, you have further missiles locked onto your signal."

Kayo just managed to bite back her sarcastic comment. "Taking evasive action," she reported, looping back around and slamming her hand down to activate the flares. The missiles exploded in a torrent of flames behind her, sending shockwaves cascading through the air. Kayo increased on the throttle to compensate, but Shadow was still sent into a spin, heading towards the ocean below. Fighting to regain control, she struggled to regain altitude, raising her head from the controls to see a pulse of energy careering towards her Thunderbird. "What the _fuck_?"

Thunderbird Shadow jolted and then shook violently. Kayo was flung back in her seat, smashing her head against the side of the windshield. Electricity crackled across the controls in front of her, energy sparking until the alerts stopped wailing, dying off one by one with a pitiful whine. With a final flicker, Thunderbird Shadow's systems went offline, and the aircraft went dark.

For a few seconds, Kayo couldn't move. Every second counted, especially given the nose-dive towards the ocean she was currently caught in. Working on instinct alone, she was able to drag her battered Thunderbird out of the dive and into a stable flight path, rebooting the few systems she could. Her radio spluttered back into life and a missile alert gave a feeble chime.

"Kayo! Please respond."

"I'm here John," Kayo mumbled. "Holograms are offline though."

"GDF fighters are en-route to your location," another voice announced, as stoic as ever, Kayo blinked, trying to think past the pounding in her head and noting the panic that had her hands trembling in her lap.

"Negative," she shouted, desperation making her disregard all protocols. "This craft is way more advanced than intel had us believe. I almost got shot out of the sky; you have no chance."

"One minute out."

"Listen to me!" Kayo shuddered as another jolt ran through the Thunderbird. "If you send your team out here then they will _die_."

She wasn't sure whether the GDF operator on the other end of the line could not hear her or was simply choosing not to listen, but the humming of engines caught her attention. Glancing up at the sky above where the enemy craft was hovering, she glimpsed a fleet of sleek GDF fighter jets in formation, heading straight into the fray.

Kayo couldn't hear herself shout a final warning. Her voice was hoarse when she went to speak again, and John's shocked look as her hologram projector came back online had her wondering whether she'd screamed. The sky and sea alike were lit up with explosions of fire and jet-fuel spread out across the waves from the impact zone. The brave pilots of the jets were dying right in front of her very eyes and she could do _nothing_.

Her hands were trembling violently now. Kayo raised her chin to meet the horrified gaze of her reflection in the windshield. She raised a shaking hand to the side of the face, warmth meeting her fingertips. Her reflection was pale-faced, her dark hair matted with blood where she'd hit the side of the cockpit. She couldn't breathe for a second and then reached out, tapping at her radio. Hot tears were slipping unbidden down her cheeks and the rational part of her mind was yelling: _Shock. You're going into shock._

"International Rescue," she whispered in a broken voice. "We have a situation."

* * *

' _This is an ongoing situation. As of today, an unknown organisation has launched an attack on the Global Defence Force. The World Council have called an emergency meeting and the outcome of this has yet to be announced. We remain unsure as to the whereabouts or the identify of what can only been described as a terrorist organisation, but as of right now Colonel Casey of the Global Defence Force is instructing members of the general public to be vigilant and not to take unnecessary risks.'_

 _'We are receiving reports of an explosion at the Centre of International Technology…yes, we can now confirm that there has been an attack by the same organisation that shot down GDF fighters over the sea off the coast of Sri Lanka.'_

 _'The GDF and World Council have done nothing. Are we safe on the streets? In our own homes?'_

 _'Where's International Rescue in all of this? Aren't they linked with the GDF?'_

 _'This is becoming a global crisis.'_

"You should stop watching that."

Kayo didn't react as the television screen in front of her faded to black. The remote dropped lightly onto the couch next to her and she nudged it further away to avoid the temptation of watching the news once more. She caught a glimpse of blue out of the corner of her vision and sighed. There was only one person who wore that shade so religiously, even if she hadn't recognised his voice (which she had).

"Why?" She murmured after a second. "The GDF can't cope. They've been compromised. Everything's in chaos and you can't keep flying rescues non-stop with every attack that keeps happening."

Scott moved the remote out of the way and sat down next to her. Kayo had been off duty for about an hour but couldn't bring herself to fall asleep when she was aware of how many people were still in danger. It appeared that Scott was experiencing the same thing, as he'd been forced off duty ten minutes previously.

"Watching it won't change anything."

"You tried telling John that?"

Scott flopped back against the sofa. "Yeah. He says that he's fine and has EOS to help him sort out the highest priority callouts." He tugged a cushion into his lap, running a finger along the pattern to keep his focus. "Any news from Colonel Casey?"

Kayo shrugged. "Not a word."

Scott didn't reply. She snuck a glance across at him, noting the dark look in his gaze before he ducked his head to hide his expression. In the centre of the table the hologram projector hummed as it sprang into life with a flicker of blue lights. Gordon's avatar appeared.

"Hey, we're on final approach."

"FAB."

Gordon looked as tired as Kayo felt. She watched him fumble to end the call and stood up from the sofa, stretching and heading down to the hangar to greet the pair. Scott, to her surprise, didn't follow. She suspected he'd finally fallen asleep.

"Kayo," Virgil didn't bother with greeting her, nor did he seemed surprised to see her waiting on the walkway out to Thunderbird 2's exit hatch. He scrubbed one gloved hand through his hair, grimacing as it came away covered in soot. "Brains found anything?"

"I figured I'd wait to hear about that until you'd got back."

"Thanks."

Gordon stumbled out of the hatch behind them, yawning and swinging his diving suit over his shoulder, already having changed out of his uniform on the flight back. Thunderbird 2 had the distinct advantage of having showers installed on board, something which came in handy when they were dealing with fire rescues or volcanoes.

"Alan back yet?" Kayo shook her head. "Can I sleep now?"

Virgil grabbed his shoulder as his brother attempted to sneak past him. "Not happening. Still on duty, remember?"

Kayo frowned. Gordon may be the joker of the family, but he took International Rescue seriously and he wouldn't attempt to shirk his duties for no reason. "Go get some rest," she told him, meeting Gordon's confused look. "I can't get to sleep anyway, so I may as well take your next rescue."

"Virg?"

Virgil sighed, relinquishing his grip on the aquanaut's shoulder. "Yeah, okay. Go on then."

"Kayo, you are _awesome_."

Brains was surrounded by holograms when Kayo stepped into the lab, Virgil at her heels. MAX greeted them with a chirp, returning to Brains' side a second later.

"You got anything?" Virgil cleared a space on the table and sat down, despite the scientist's indignant look. Kayo reached out, twirling a hologram between her fingers.

"P-possibly," Brains admitted. "I may have found the original designs for the w-weapons they've been using."

Kayo leant forwards, intrigued. Thunderbird Shadow was one of the most advanced stealth crafts in the world and anything that could knock her out of the skies required much research and a _lot_ of cash. "Do I have a lead?" She couldn't resist adding the extra word. "Finally."

Brains shot up from his chair, staring at her incredulously over the brim of his spectacles. "Kayo, n-no. I still have not had chance to upgrade Shadow's systems to counteract the effects of these w-weapons."

"So, what do you have for us?"

"A location and p-possibly a motive. N-no names, unfortunately."

Kayo smirked. "I can work with that."

* * *

Alan had been on the cross-country team during his freshman year. Since the permanent move to Tracy Island, he'd kept up this hobby through going for runs down on the beach and up around the east path before trekking back down to the villa. This meant that he had both stamina and speed on his side.

Despite this, running through the collapsing floors of a GDF facility was proving challenging to say the least. His chest was burning with the need for oxygen and there was a fierce ache in his legs as he pushed himself to sprint just a little faster. John's voice was loud and concerned in his ear, instructing him on the best route to take. The glass of the window he was heading straight towards was reinforced and he when he slammed his shoulder into it, fire ignited down his arm from the impact. The armour of his uniform had worked well however, taking most of the blow, and a spiderweb of cracks spread out across the glass. Alan aimed a kick at it again and again before he finally broke through, shattered glass spiralling away towards the ground below.

"Oh wow. This is…this is high." The toes of his boots hung over the edge and he tilted his weight forwards, despite his instincts screaming otherwise. The ground seemed a _very_ long way down and for a moment he felt dizzy.

"Jump, now."

"You try jumping out of a ninety-storey high building," Alan retorted but obediently flung himself out of the broken window. Instead of feeling metal underneath him, he continued falling, the sudden rush of panic at the realisation almost overwhelming when Thunderbird 1 finally appeared, her wing tilting to the side in accordance with his rate of descent. Alan gripped the metal below him, crawling forwards and in through the access hatch on the top of the aircraft.

John's avatar was waiting for him, above the controls. Alan allowed himself a moment to catch his breath before stumbling to his feet and over to the pilot's chair, sinking into it with a groan.

"That was _horrible_."

John winced in sympathy. "Sorry. There was no other way."

"Uh huh." Alan manoeuvred '1 higher into the air and away from the building he'd just escaped from. "Is everyone alright?"

"Everyone's accounted for with minimal injuries, thanks to you."

Alan grinned. "What's next?"

"We've finally cleared the backlog of rescues, so back to the ranch. I'll call you if I get another alert."

Alan nodded, speaking before he could stop himself. "And you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you coming down?"

"I can't, there's too much going on."

"Yeah, but you've been working non-stop for the past forty-eight hours." John didn't reply. Alan had been exaggerating but the lack of reply was suspicious, and he found himself wondering whether he'd struck closer to the truth than he'd meant to. "John?"

John avoided any further questions by cutting the transmission. Alan found himself flying in silence once more and distracted himself by starting up one of his latest playlists that Scott was still unaware had been added into Thunderbird 1. The ocean sped by below him and with '1 on autopilot, Alan drew his feet up onto the edge of the seat and sank back into the red leather. Catching brief snatches of sleep between rescues during particularly busy periods was something he had grown used to and as he was heading back from the east coast of South America he figured he was reasonably safe (nowhere near the Indian Ocean where Kayo had almost been shot down).

Alan didn't think he'd fallen asleep but when he was dragged out of the light slumber by an obnoxiously loud alarm and fell out of his chair in shock, he had to admit that it was the most likely explanation. What the hell were all the alerts about? He sat up and scanned his gaze over the readouts that were appearing faster and faster as every second passed. The Thunderbird had not received any damage and Alan found himself growing even more confused as further alarms sounded.

"John?" He activated the radio as a last resort, his brother's hologram appearing within seconds.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm getting _loads_ of alerts right now. Any ideas?"

John went to reply when his avatar suddenly flickered out of being, vanishing into mid air as though he had ended the transmission. With a sinking feeling, Alan checked the signal to discover it was lost along with the scanners; he was essentially flying blind.

"That's not good…"

Thunderbird 1 rose higher into the skies stopping just below the level where the air would become too thin, sunlight glinting off her hull. Alan kept an eye on the alerts, easing back on the throttle to see if he could clear some of them. The radio still had no signal and he couldn't help but feel that there was something desperately wrong, yet the Thunderbird was flying as smoothly as ever. Without a connection, he couldn't call John or Scott to ask about the remaining alarms, and he opted to try and make it back to Tracy Island as soon as possible.

The scattered islets that passed below in a blur were familiar and a signal that he was only a few minutes out from the safety of Tracy Island. This was probably the reason why it was such a shock to feel a sudden jolt shudder through the aircraft. Alan had never been so thankful for a safety harness when Thunderbird 1 suddenly plummeted from the skies.

He silently thanked his previous self for climbing to such a high altitude as it gave him more time to recover from the dive. Thunderbird 1 was trembling under his touch, resisting against the controls as though some other force had taken hold of her.

Alan caught a glimpse of something crackling in the air about the cockpit and released his grip on the controls mere seconds before electricity ignited across the nose cone and panel in front of him. A proximity alert chimed and as the final spark of energy faded Alan reacted without thinking, diverting all power to the VTOLs and gaining altitude. '1 obeyed, her flight pattern shaky and dark scorch marks across her wings telling of her fight to regain control.

"C'mon, One," he murmured, struggling to keep the aircraft level. Something flashed past the window and he dragged the Thunderbird to the left. He was faced with a decision. On one hand, he had to get Thunderbird 1 out of the skies as quickly as possible, especially given he had no idea of how much damage she had suffered, but on the other, he couldn't have whoever was piloting the enemy craft trailing him back to Tracy Island. In other words, he thought to himself, he had to lose them.

Alan had the advantage of knowing both the area _and_ Thunderbird 1's capabilities, but he had the disadvantage that the scanners were down, and the other aircraft had apparently gained some camo-panels since its last run-in with Kayo; he had no idea where it was about to attack from. Thunderbird 1 was also low on fuel and he was tired; despite the adrenaline rush, his reflexes were slower than usual. He was completely alone with an unknown enemy and was well aware that he was growing somewhat panicky.

Right. He snapped back into the present as Thunderbird 1 jolted again. Time to fly.

Whenever the other aircraft had attacked it had been from above. This led Alan to believe that the weapons were located on the underside of the craft. If he gained enough altitude, then he should be safe enough to try and reboot the rest of '1's systems, the radio in particular. Unless, of course, he noted as Thunderbird 1 sped up towards the darker skies above, the enemy craft was capable of leaving the atmosphere. Whatever had the capabilities to knock out '1's systems and develop such advanced weapons was probably easily able to enter space. Alan tried not to think about it.

A warning about the air thinning appeared above the control-column and Alan swiped it away. He was aware of Thunderbird 1's limits but the steadily gaining craft behind him was more of a concern than a possible stall. Keeping Thunderbird 1 at the highest altitude she could fly at, Alan started to restart the systems as best he could whilst keeping an eye on the alerts for any further attacks. With a flicker of blue holograms several of the systems came back online.

Alan ignored the frantic calls being sent his way as the radio regained a signal, instead opting to engage the camo-panels.

"Thunderbird One, do you copy?"

He returned to the seat and waited for the next wave of attacks, watching the shape on his scanners which signified the enemy craft.

"I'm here," he replied without thinking about it. John relaxed somewhat but remained on edge having witnessed Thunderbird 1 go offline for a good six minutes.

"What happened?"

"Let me get back home before I tell you."

Alan watched the radar with interest, frowning as he realised the other craft was turning around. It was evident that it hadn't succeeded in knocking his Thunderbird out of the sky, so he wondered why it was retreating. He ran a scan for any alien substances across the hull that could be a tracker but other than the scorch marks and damage suffered from the weapons, it was clear. He leant forwards, shoulders hunched, gripping the controls tightly and trying to ignore the shivers that ran down his spine.

The sight of Tracy Island looming on the horizon had never been so welcome. Alan guided '1 into her hangar, darkness descending briefly as the pool closed overhead before the hangar lights were activated. He sat back in the seat, releasing his tight grip on the controls and bringing his hands up to his face, hiding from the bright lights.

"Alan."

Alan didn't respond. He was briefly aware that he was shaking. Hands wrapped around his own, gently moving them away from his face. There was a burning smell in the air, harsh and choking. There was a ringing sound in his ears.

"Hey." He blinked. There was someone pressed against his knees and another person with a hand on his shoulder. It was cramped in the cockpit with the three of them there, but he found he could breathe easier. The person next to his knee was tapping a rhythm that he recognised from Virgil's piano playing, helping him focus. "You back with us, sprout?"

Alan blinked. The person running their fingers through his hair tapped his shoulder. "Remember to breathe." He took a deep breath. And then another. His chest hurt.

"Alan?"

"Y-yeah," he whispered, reality crashing down on him. The person next to his knees was Gordon and Scott remained by his side, continuing to stroke his hair. "Shit. Oh my god. What just…"

"You're okay," Scott reminded him. Alan leant into his touch, briefly aware that someone had deactivated the safety harness. "You're home now."

Gordon started tapping again. Alan caught his gaze and the aquanaut shrugged. "Grounding technique," he murmured in response to Alan's questioning look. "You ready to get up?"

Alan nodded, climbing out of the cockpit on shaky legs, Scott's arm around his shoulders preventing him from plunging back down to the floor. Gordon remained by his side, fidgety and pale-faced, evidently shaken up from '1's attack. Virgil was waiting by the door from the hanger back up to the rest of the villa, clearly having to prevent himself from running to '1's cockpit to meet them due to the knowledge that they wouldn't all fit. John's avatar was hovering above his watch, unspeaking and looking unsure of himself.

"Infirmary," Virgil announced, catching sight of the way Alan was leaning heavily on Scott.

"No."

"Yes."

Alan didn't argue any further. Virgil may be the family peace-maker, but he could be as stubborn as the rest of them when he wanted to be and when he was in overprotective mode there was to be no escaping. The walk up the steps and through the corridor into the infirmary seemed to pass in a blur and Alan didn't even realise he'd zoned out again until he was sat on one of the beds, with Gordon gripping his shoulders tight enough to hurt.

"Hey," he complained, flinching away.

Gordon didn't move away but loosened his grip, his gaze unwavering and brimming with concern. "Allie, you keep zoning out."

"Sorry."

"What happened out there?"

"Gordon." Scott's voice was low with warning as he crossed over from where he'd been speaking to Virgil. The two had kept their conversation hushed but the tension in the air was palpable; Alan had no doubts as to what they'd been discussing.

"It's alright." Alan stared down at his hands, fiddling with the edge of his sash. "I guess it was the same guys who went after Kayo. One minute I was flying, the next… okay, I fell asleep, but I got woken up by all these alerts, so I called Johnny, and then…nothing. One just started falling." He was partially aware that he'd started trembling again. His uniform felt too constricting and he resisted the urge to drag it off so that he could breathe easier. "I…I couldn't get anything back online. They started attacking again and I don't know…I think…"

"That's enough." Virgil cut him off, coaxing him off the bed. "C'mon. Let's get you out of that uniform first. Gordon?"

"Yes?"

"Get him something to eat. No Scott, you're worse than Grandma, you're not going in the kitchen." Alan couldn't help but smile at that one, but the idea of laughing still seemed too exhausting. "John, stop freaking out. We have Alan home. He's safe."

Alan still wasn't aware of everything that was going on around him. He'd experienced a similar feeling previously, on one of his first rescues, and more recently after saving John from a then-evil EOS. Being zoned out (dissociating, as he'd learnt it was called) was part of an emotional shock, but he found it scarier than the actual traumatic experience in the first place.

He didn't know how long he'd stood in the shower for. The water was too hot, and the room was cloaked in steam, but he still felt chilled. The trembling had stopped though. He wiped a hand across the fogged-up mirror and examined his reflection. He was a lot paler than usual (his tan usually hid his freckles but now they were stark across his nose) and his hair was dark with water. He sniffed and rubbed at his red-rimmed eyes.

Someone had left a hoodie on the bed for him. Alan didn't need to check what design it was to know that it was Scott's. He usually didn't bother with socks, but he wanted to soak up every scrap of warmth he could (despite the tropical temperatures, the AC wasn't working properly, and it was colder than it was supposed to be) and tugged on an obnoxiously fluffy pair with yellow and black stripes; he had no doubt that they used to be Gordon's at some point.

Padding into the kitchen, Alan was presented with a plate piled high with waffles, accompanied by entirely too many toppings. Still, Gordon looked pleased with himself, perched on the counter where the washing up from his creations remained piled, steadily working his way through eating a punnet of strawberries.

"You okay?"

Alan didn't reply at first. "I will be," he responded at last. There was no point in lying to Gordon. While the others would remain in smother-hen mode and jump at the slightest idea that he wasn't feeling 100%, Gordon would just accept this and keep a closer eye on him than usual. Alan appreciated it; it made everything feel more normal.

He joined Gordon on the countertop, knocking his heels against the chairs and digging a fork into the top of the waffle pile. It was a well known and universally accepted fact within the Tracy family that if waffles were not made by Gordon or John then they were not worth having. As ever, this fact was proven right once more as Alan took another mouthful of waffle smothered in whipped cream and strawberry pieces.

"Good?"

Alan shot him a pointed look. Gordon was smirking, a sense of pride about him at his achievement as Alan continued shovelling waffle into his mouth at a rate of knots. The pile was soon gone and the plate deposited in the sink, replaced by a bottle of water. Gordon remained where he was, now surrounded by strawberry tops, and surveyed his younger brother. Alan had stopped shaking and was significantly less pale than he had been previously. He slipped off the countertop to drape an arm around the younger's shoulders, guiding him towards the den.

"Hey," Virgil appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. There was a blanket clutched in his hands, worn after years of use but still as soft as the day it had been bought. Alan made grabby hands for it, revelling in the warmth as it had just been taken out of the dryer and wrapping it around his shoulders like a cape. Gordon refused to remove his arm and was dragged into the blanket hug as well, not that he was complaining.

"Don't we have rescues?"

Virgil shook his head. "Not at the moment," he elaborated, swiping at the door to enter the designated den. "Whoever these people are, they have a game plan. They've shown us what they can do. They've taken down the GDF and almost taken down two of our Thunderbirds." Alan gave an involuntary shudder, and Gordon's half-hug around him tightened protectively. "Now they're making their demands. Kayo's at the GDF's London base with Penelope, so I guess we'll hear what they want soon enough."

"Is it weird that I kinda miss having the Hood as our arch-enemy?"

"It's you Gordon, you're weird in general."

Gordon tilted his head in acknowledgement, the corners of his mouth twitching in a poorly hidden smile. Virgil ruffled his hair, despite the protests, but left Alan's well alone, suspecting that sudden movements were not on the cards for the time being.

The Den was filled with extra blankets and cushions as opposed to the usual low set sofas. Scott was waiting for them, John's hologram disappearing at their appearance. Virgil made a mental note to check in with the blond later; there was something John wasn't telling them, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

Gordon dived over the back of the sofa, landing in a sprawled heap amongst the blankets at Scott's feet. The elder of the two stared down at him for a moment before ignoring him in favour of greeting Alan. Gordon waved an arm pitifully and Virgil sighed dramatically, far more used to his co-pilot's antics than he suspected could be normal and helped him back onto the sofa.

"Sorry about One," Alan mentioned as he sank into the sofa.

Scott appeared horrified at the words, and Alan didn't stop to question such a reaction, the tiredness catching up with him again. He dropped his head onto his brother's shoulder, muffling a yawn with one hand. The hoodie was too big for him and the sleeves fell over his hands. He left them there. The fabric was soft anyway.

"I couldn't care less about One at this point," Scott admitted from somewhere above his head. Alan blinked up at him in confusion. "You were almost killed out there, so forget about One."

From the other side of the sofa, Virgil noted the underlying fury to his brother's voice. Sometimes he forgot Scott was ex-military. He imagined that his brother could have been pretty damn scary when he wanted to be.

"I'm gonna find these guys. They're gonna pay."

"We have nothing. They took out One _and_ Shadow." Gordon pointed out, his voice unusually serious for once. He was leant against Virgil's side with his eyes closed, but every part of his posture was tense. "Whoever they are, they're not just after the GDF."

"They see us as a threat," Scott concluded. "Well they're right there."

"Scott. We rescue people. We're not military." Virgil pointed out, shoving Gordon to the side slightly as he went to stand up. "But," he continued as Scott went to complain. "They are putting people in danger. Technically, we would be trying to rescue people. Just, you know, before the situation occurs."

"Guys, no." It was the first time Alan had spoken since the conversation had begun and they had all thought he had fallen asleep. Scott sighed, ruffling the blond hair that was pressed to his shoulder.

"If they're shooting us out of the sky, we don't really have a choice."

"They can knock out our scanners and have weapons more advanced than even Brains thought existed. You can't go after them." Alan sat upright, shrugging Scott's arm away from his shoulders and leaning forwards, shooting Virgil a pleading look. "Please. They'll shoot you down."

"Not necessarily…"

"Scott I can't lose you as well as Dad."

Silence fell across the room. Gordon stared down at the carpet, refusing to meet anyone's gaze and Virgil couldn't find the words with which to speak. For his part, Scott appeared shocked, only moving to try and grab Alan's arm as the teenager made a bolt for freedom. Alan slipped past unbidden, his blanket-cape deserted on the carpet as he dashed out of the room, the door hissing shut behind him.

* * *

Parker watched the raindrops race each other down the windscreen. The skies above were dull and murky with clouds that were heavy with unshed rain. It seemed as though the heavens were about to open at any moment. On the back seat Sherbet was growling, the noise reverberating from deep in his throat. Coming from such a tiny dog it seemed ridiculous and almost cute, but Parker had been on the sharp end of those gnashers enough times to understand that the growl was not as 'adorable' as it first seemed. His relationship with the dog was turbulent to say the least, but as of late they had formed a grudging tolerance of each other to the extant that Parker felt safe enough to shove his arm behind the seat to give Sherbet a pat.

He checked his watch once more. He had been waiting a solid eighty-seven minutes now to be precise. Her Ladyship had most definitely missed the green-peace convention in Budapest by now. Not that he was complaining.

Sherbet's growls had turned to whining as a clap of thunder resounded about the streets. The skies above were briefly lit up with a flash of lightning. Parker gave a resigned sigh and reached back once more to lift the dog forwards. Sherbet narrowed his eyes, flattening his ears to head before turning around a couple of times, settling in Parker's lap, two tiny front paws propped across the man's knee. Parker rested his hand on the dog's head, his brow furrowed as he snuck a glance about the surrounding area.

"No-one'll know about this, you 'ear me?"

Sherbet opened one eye and whined in response, dropping his head back to his paws. Parker tilted his seat back and resigned himself for a long wait.

Half an hour later, Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward stepped out of the doors of the Global Defence Force Facility , London, accompanied by International Rescue's Head of Security.

"It's good to see they're finally getting along," Kayo commented with a nod towards the sleeping Parker and Sherbet in the front seat. Penelope allowed herself a smile but found she couldn't drag her mind away from the gloom of the meeting she had just been involved in. The dreary English weather was not helping her case either. She sighed, shaking her umbrella dry as she stepped into the car.

"M'Lady!" Parker jolted upright, startled at her sudden arrival, earning a disgruntled growl from Sherbet as he was jostled out of his slumber. The dog hurriedly scrambled into Penelope's open arms, eager to return to his favourite of their makeshift family, sparing Kayo a single sniff before turning away from her.

"Do you need a lift?"

Kayo glanced over her shoulder at the skies above. "I should head back to Tracy Island," she admitted. "But thanks for the offer."

Penelope nodded, accepting the brief hug Kayo tugged her into before settling back in her seat, her expression downcast. "Be careful, Kayo. These _are…distressing_ times."

"With luck they'll be over soon," Kayo replied, offering her a friend a reassuring smile as she stepped back from the closing doors. "See you soon, Penny."

FAB 1 sped off into the distance in a spray of muddy rainwater and Kayo leapt back onto the pavement to avoid being soaked. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she finally reactivated her wrist-comm, sliding it back on and reconnecting. While she understood the top security of the meeting, being cut off from her family was always unnerving. "Thunderbird Five, this is Kayo."

"Kayo, thank God."

Kayo narrowed her eyes with suspicion. John usually had an unaffected air about him and even with the added pressure he was under with all the extra rescues, she hadn't seen him look so distraught in a long time. "What happened?" She demanded, taking in the sight of her pseudo-brother. If she hadn't know him so well then she would have suspected he'd been panicking over something, but his entire job was centred around _not_ panicking.

"Alan."

"What happened to Alan?" Kayo's breath caught in her throat as she imagined the hundreds of scenarios the youngest of the blonds could have run into. "Is he okay?"

"Yes. Shaken up, but he's unharmed. Kayo, he was attacked in Thunderbird One."

" _What_?"

John didn't reply for a moment. "Just…get home."

* * *

Alan woke to find his room in semi-darkness. Amidst the dim light he could just about make out the shape of someone sat on the edge of his bed and then he felt fingers running through his hair. It felt nice and was relaxing and he pushed his head further into the touch, still in that haze between sleep and consciousness.

"Alan?" The figure whispered, their hand stilling in his hair. Alan struggled to free his hands from his tangled duvet, rubbing the blurriness from his vision.

"Kayo?" He murmured, and she hummed an affirmative. "You're back." He shuffled upwards in bed, his duvet bunched around his knees. On the table next to his bed there was now a cold mug of hot chocolate and there was a dip in the mattress at the end that suggested someone who was not Kayo had been sitting there until recently. From the deserted pencil on the floor where it had fallen when the person had left, Alan suspected it had been Virgil. "I guess you heard what happened."

Kayo withdrew her hand, resting her back against the wall and moving closer so that their shoulders brushed. Her posture was slumped and there was a sense of exhaustion about her that Alan had never seen before. "Yes," she admitted, dropping her head back against the wall. "I'm sorry, Al. I should have been there."

"You couldn't have done anything," Alan reminded her, stretching and rotating his wrist. He had slept on it awkwardly after he skulked back to his room. "Anyway, the meeting was important."

"Penelope could have handled it."

Alan shrugged. "I'm here, aren't I? And I'm alright."

Kayo gave him a searching look, her eyes glinting green in the moonlight that crept in through the gaps in the blinds. "Are you?"

"Let me guess – you've spoken to the others?"

"Only John."

"So, not Scott yet?"

Kayo shook her head. Her hair wasn't tied back in its usual ponytail and fell about her face with the movement. The hairband was tight about her wrist and she kept changing which arm it was on. "No," she spoke softly. "Should I have done?"

Alan ducked his head to hide from her gaze. "I mentioned Dad."

"Okay. And that is bad…how?"

"Because," Alan clenched the fabric of the duvet in white-knuckled fists. "Because it just is, okay?" His voice broke on the final word and he turned away from her, a tell-tale sniff showing his true emotions. Kayo pulled him into a tight hug, fierce and protective. Alan pressed his face into her shoulder and took a shuddering breath, his eyes hot and pricking with tears. Kayo's hair was ticklish against his skin and he couldn't help but smile. "Thanks, Kayo."

"What for?" Kayo appeared genuinely confused.

"I don't know. Just being here, I guess."

"You're my brother," she whispered into his hair. He smiled, blinking back tears and finally pulled away from her embrace. There were no further words needed. Kayo wasn't a great talker, which was alright because Alan wasn't always so great at explaining how he was feeling. Kayo just got it. She was like John in that respect.

* * *

"I am going to superglue you to that seat in a moment." Gordon froze on the spot, one foot hovering in preparation to take another step. "You've been pacing since we flew over Kuala Lumpur."

"So?"

"So, we're now over Paris." Virgil turned on his seat to look over his shoulder at his brother. "Sit down, Gordon."

Gordon contemplated the pros and cons and gave in with a sigh, dropping into the co-pilot's chair with a heavy sigh. For a brief moment there was silence other than the purring of '2's engines before he started tapping along the side of his seat. Virgil smacked his hand away from the leather with a growl.

"What?"

"Tapping is worse. So much worse."

For once Gordon didn't have a sarcastic comment with which to retort. Instead he quietly placed his hands on the control panel in front of him, careful to avoid knocking any of the buttons out of place and rested his chin on the edge of the window. The deep blues of the oceans that he'd seen last time he'd looked out had transformed into rolling green hills and a landscape scattered with fields, broken up by grey roads snaking their way amongst the foliage.

"You okay?"

Gordon looked up from the window where he'd been lost in thought. "Yeah, I'm okay." Virgil waited for him to elaborate. "D'you think we're gonna run into any trouble?"

Virgil dropped the nose of the Thunderbird a few degrees to guide them into land. "Do you want me to be honest, or..?"

Gordon huffed a dark laugh. "Probably not." He swung out of his seat despite the fact they hadn't yet touched down, heading for the Pod. "Excavator?"

"FAB. I'll put out the worst of those fires."

It felt strange not to have John's input on their plan of action, Virgil reflected, as Gordon disappeared into the Pod below and he slid his seat back from the panel. It was one of their first rescues of the week that had been caused by natural disasters and he couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that there was no apparent threat, just a simple drop in and retrieve sort of rescue.

He crossed to the back section of the Thunderbird, selecting the correct hologram so that his exosuit would be assembling in the Pod whilst he took '2 up to extinguish the still-burning fires on the higher levels of the partially collapsed buildings (despite the reinforcements of most areas in 2060, earthquakes still had the power to wreak havoc). Gordon hadn't quite finished with setting up the Excavator and Virgil found himself waiting in his seat with time to kill, tapping on the radio to call both Thunderbird 5 and Tracy Island.

John ignored his call which was unusual and had him on edge. Home was a different matter as Alan answered the call only to be immediately shoved out the way by a worried looking Scott.

"What's wrong?"

Virgil was taken aback. "Nothing?" He answered slowly. "Just checking in." He leaned forwards as a flash of yellow caught his attention; Gordon was finally free of the pod. "Have you heard from John?"

Scott, now on the sofa with Alan hovering nearby (they still hadn't talked properly since the younger's outburst a few days previously and the tension in the room was driving both Virgil and Gordon crazy), shook his head, a brief look of concern crossing his features. "Not since your callout this morning. Why?"

"He's not answering."

"Maybe he's busy?" Alan suggested, sidestepping to avoid MAX who suddenly sped past. He knew full well that this was just an excuse; with EOS onboard Thunderbird 5 to also reply to calls, there was no reason for the radio to go unanswered. He didn't want to think about what that could mean. He flopped over the back of the sofa to slide down the cushions, landing sprawled on the carpet below. There was a pair of socks discarded under the sofa and he shuffled further away. "Want me to take Three and check up on him?"

Scott and Virgil exchanged a knowing look, speaking without words as per their usual form of communication. Alan rolled his eyes, eternally frustrated by this.

"No." Scott was the one to answer. "Taking Three is too risky."

Alan fought the urge to point out that both Virgil and Gordon had just flown halfway across the world in a giant green aircraft.

"I can try calling him again?" Virgil offered, easing Thunderbird 2 higher up the building.

"No, you focus on the rescue. I'll try him."

"FAB." Virgil reached forwards to press the obnoxiously red button to his left, freezing as another thought occurred to him. "Alan, tell me you didn't put your running playlist back on this?"

Alan sniggered. "Maybe."

"If I end up diffusing fires with that pop rubbish you call music then I'm gonna throw you in the pool."

"You do that anyway."

"When One is about to take off."

Alan stopped talking. While he knew there was no truth to the threat he was also aware that Virgil knew where the spare key to his room was, as well as being the one to help Brains install upgrades in '3. Revenge could take any form. "You're fine, I took it off."

Virgil shot him a relieved smile. "Thanks." He ended the transmission, safe in the knowledge that Scott was checking up on John. Ten minutes later and most of the fires had been extinguished, leaving only smouldering debris in their wake. Virgil landed '2 on a spare patch of tarmac in what he guessed had been a carpark before '2's VTOLs had left scorch marks obscuring the markings.

"I'm gonna head up and put out the fires I couldn't reach in Two. You good?"

Gordon's avatar appeared above his watch instead of replying through the radio link in their sashes. His uniform was smothered in a thick layer of dust and grime that smoke always leaves behind. "I'm fine," he replied. Virgil stared at him. Gordon had a thing about that phrase: _I'm fine_ normally meant he was covering something up.

"What happened?" He asked. His exosuit began constructing around him.

Gordon avoided his searching look, pointedly staring straight ahead at whatever he was approaching in the excavator pod. "Nothing I can't handle."

"Gordon."

"Seriously Virg, just let me do my job." Gordon finally looked up to meet his brother's gaze through the projector. "Please. I'll tell you when we get back to Two."

Unsettled by the haunted look in the aquanaut's gaze, Virgil gave in. If Gordon was genuinely injured then he would admit to it, never one to risk failing a mission for the sake of stubbornness or pride (it was worth noting that back on Tracy Island this did not apply).

It took another hour and a half to finish putting out the rest of the flames and make a full building search from the top floor down to the partially collapsed lower levels (the main structure supports had done their job well as the rest of the tower had not toppled). Gordon was usually the one to stay behind and greet the rest of the survivors, accepting their gratitude and the cries of excited bystanders with a grin and confident reassurance. This was probably the reason why it struck Virgil as so unusual to see that the people who needed it had already been ushered towards the waiting emergency service vehicles and that those who'd been watching from afar had already dispersed. Gordon was nowhere to be seen.

Virgil stepped out into the daylight, blinking as bright sunlight blinded him. As his eyes adjusted to the light he caught sight of a private ambulance parked up to far left of Thunderbird 2 and winced. He knew too well what that meant. No wonder Gordon had been shaken up. Seeing people who they'd been too late to save was never easy.

Sure enough, Gordon was waiting for him in '2's cockpit. What Virgil hadn't expected was the fact that his brother was talking to Alan. From the tense way the red-head was holding himself, not slouched into the seat like he usually did, what he'd witnessed on rescue wasn't the only thing bothering him. Virgil frowned. Who was he kidding? He was worried too – flying home was when Alan had run into trouble. If there was ever a time to be concerned, then this was probably it.

"Hey."

"See you later, Al." Gordon ended the call, twisting in his seat as Virgil moved his hand away from his brother's shoulder to sit down in his own chair. "Can we just go home?" His voice was quiet as he looked away, out of the window and up at the scattered clouds above, glinting golden in the sunlight.

Virgil obliged, drawing Thunderbird 2 up into the skies and higher until they broke the cloud level. The rescue zone disappeared below, spiralling until it was indistinguishable from the rest of the city other than for the flashing red and blue lights. He snuck a look at Gordon, who was still staring out of the window.

"You want to talk about it?"

Gordon tugged his gloves off, sneezing as a cloud of dust rose up from his uniform at the sudden movement. Virgil considered telling him to go take a shower but figured that if they were to run into trouble it would be better to have Gordon in the cockpit with him. A soot-covered seat could be cleaned, after all.

"Do I have a choice?"

Virgil shrugged. "Sure."

"Liar." Gordon leant forwards, resting his forehead against the control panel. Virgil checked to be sure that he hadn't fallen asleep when there were no further words and then his brother started speaking once more. "She was just a kid. It's not fair."

"I know."

"She…just five minutes. If I'd been five minutes faster."

Virgil frowned. "Don't do that to yourself." Gordon didn't move, and he reached out, clapping a hand to his brother's arm until Gordon lifted his head to look at him. "Gordy. It's not your fault. Hell, if you're going down that road, then I should have flown faster. Or John should have called it in sooner."

Gordon tilted his seat back, closing his eyes. "No," he spoke, his voice muffled by the arm he flung across his face. "That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean?"

He made a noncommittal gesture with one hand. "I don't know. Really. It just sucks, y'know?"

"Sixteen people." Gordon was silent, but Virgil knew him well enough to understand that his brother was still listening. "That's how many people you saved today."

"You too."

"Not really. I put out some fires and prevented the tower from collapsing completely. The people who were trapped down below? That's on you. You saved them."

Gordon hummed in acknowledgement, sliding down in the chair slightly. Virgil couldn't help but smile. If he was prepared to fall asleep on the way home (as slouching in his favourite chair often signified) then clearly he wasn't dwelling on it as much as he could have been. Virgil was grateful for that; on some of the tougher rescues when there'd been higher losses, Gordon took it as a personal failure and Virgil had been forced to do some serious damage control. He wondered what Gordon had been talking to Alan about.

"Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird Five." He kept his voice hushed to avoid waking a now dozing brother to his left. "John? Come in."

"This is EOS."

Virgil jolted upright in his chair. "EOS, where's John?"

"Communications between Thunderbird Five and Earth have been scrambled. John is unharmed though, don't worry."

"Then how are you talking to me?"

"I'm not limited to Thunderbird Five. I can access your radio through the rest of the International Rescue system."

Virgil couldn't help but find that somewhat disturbing. While EOS had proven her loyalty to John many times over, he still couldn't get the memories of her past out of his head. EOS was the most advanced AI in the world and despite the way John joked about being her creator, Virgil doubted that the blond truly understood her either. She was, as Brains put it, a question that hadn't been asked yet. The idea of her having access to all their IR systems creeped him out to say the least.

"Any idea what's causing it?" He asked, watching the soundwaves jump as EOS spoke.

"Sorry, but no." EOS sounded genuinely apologetic as though it were her fault. Virgil couldn't help but feel sorry for her. "I'll continue trying to find the problem."

She ended the link before Virgil had chance to ask her to check the skies ahead. A second later he discovered that there wouldn't have been much point as he learnt the truth for himself. Despite the camo-panels that remained engaged along '2's hull ever since their take-off, the other aircraft appeared to have found them with ease.

Gordon tumbled out of his seat, having jumped to attention at the sudden blaring of alerts and alarms. Still partly asleep, he instantly went to sit up and smacked his head against the control panel. Virgil physically pulled him off the floor and into his seat, the safety harness automatically connecting, and returned to his own, feeling as though he were trembling with the sudden adrenaline rush.

"What's going on?" Gordon knew too well what was going on but asking the question seemed to bring some semblance of control back to the cockpit. He clutched one hand to the crown of his head, wincing as he felt where he'd smashed it against the hard metal. "Are they following us?"

Virgil checked the radar, changing course to loop around over the seas just off New Zealand. Leading them back to Tracy Island would only cause further problems. "Yes."

"Keep us steady?" Gordon released the safety harness to head to the back. Virgil shouted a warning after him but when his brother had a plan he didn't back down.

"What are you even doing?"

"Preparing the backup systems for reboot. Every time they attack they hit us with something that knocks our Thunderbirds offline."

"Good plan." Virgil winced as the Thunderbird jolted and swerved sharply to the right despite his best attempts to keep her from moving. A series of colourful words could be heard from the back and Gordon reappeared, not bothering with the safety harness and instead flinging himself into the seat on top of it.

"Rough skies, huh?"

Virgil shot him a glance earning himself an uneasy look in turn. Gordon was just as apprehensive as him, hence the joke. Alan had been closer to Tracy Island and yet had only just managed to make it back. The idea of ditching '2 in the water was unthinkable.

"Alan said he got away by climbing higher, right?"

Virgil clenched his hands about the controls. "One is faster and more manoeuvrable. I don't know what they've hit us with, but I can barely keep Two on the same heading."

Gordon shuffled in his seat. "Well, at least we've still got power?" He laughed nervously. Virgil ignored him, too focussed on keeping Two level. He still couldn't see the other craft, but the radar reported it as being hot on their heels. He barely registered the shout from his left until Gordon barrelled into him, knocking his hands away from the controls.

Electricity flashed across the front of the cockpit and skittered about the controls, bright and blinding. There was a whining cry from somewhere in the depths of '2's engines and then the aircraft started dropping towards the ocean below.

They were dropping dizzyingly fast. Virgil was still pinned to his chair and had to remind himself that Gordon had set the reboot, they were _going to be fine._ This was Two. She pulled through every time.

Lights flickered back into life across the cockpit. The control panel sparked but holograms ignited into their blinking fury once more. Mere metres above the unforgiving surface of the sea below, Thunderbird 2's engines kicked in once more, VTOLs spluttering as they attempted to prevent the aircraft plunging into the icy waters.

Virgil took a deep breath. From what little he could see of the radar over the top of Gordon's shoulder, the enemy craft was circling around, which gave them around ten minutes to think of a new plan.

"Gordon." There was no reply and a new fear welled up. Virgil reached over the back of his chair to drag himself upwards, realisation dawning on him. He hadn't been touching the control panel when the power surge hit. Gordon had. With a curse that would have had his Grandma shocked, Virgil leant forwards again. Their suits were designed to absorb most of the shocks they may receive such as from stray wires out on rescue, but he had no idea how many volts Gordon had just been subjected to.

"Hey, c'mon Fish, you're okay." There was a mumbled response against his shoulder and Gordon slumped further against him. Virgil reached around to support his upper back (the chairs weren't designed for two) and tugged him closer to his chest. "Gordon, come on, no sleeping on the job."

"Wha's happening?" The words were slurred and when Gordon finally managed to drag himself out of the haze he'd fallen into, his gaze was unfocussed. Virgil gripped his shoulder, drawing his attention.

"You with me?"

Gordon blinked. "Ow," he whispered, eyes widening as both memories and awareness came crashing down on. "Oh _fuck_ , ow."

"Hey, breathe through it, you're good."

Gordon pressed his head back to Virgil's shoulder, eyes tightly shut. Virgil hugged him closer, noting the time left, and humming in a comforting gesture. Gordon didn't speak, but his fingers dug into Virgil's back painfully and the elder winced, keeping silent; Gordon probably didn't even realise how tight his grip was.

"Gordy?"

"No."

Virgil took a breath and rested his chin on the top of the tousled hair. "Okay," he whispered, noting the minute tremors still running through his brother's form slowed somewhat at the sound of his voice. "Just…breathe. Just breathe."

"Kinda hurts to," Gordon mumbled, voice thick with pain. Virgil understood exactly where Scott was coming from when it came to be wanting to hunt down and make the unknown group pay. He hadn't seen Gordon in _this_ state for a long time.

"I know. Sorry." There was a quiet sound that was hastily muffled that sounded too much like a sob for his liking. He traced patterns across Gordon's back, unsure as to whether his brother could even feel it through the uniform. "You're an idiot."

"Thanks."

"You pushed me out the way."

"Noted."

Virgil tightened his grip subconsciously. "Don't do that again."

"You'd do the same for me," Gordon pointed out, wincing as another tremor ran down his back.

"Doesn't matter. I'm not seeing you get hurt on my account."

Gordon didn't reply. Virgil knew it was pointless even trying to talk him out of it. He leaned forwards earning a quiet whimper of protest at the movement, cursing as he spotted the time left.

"That bad, huh?"

Virgil looked down. Gordon glanced up at him, no longer bothering to hide his face where tear tracks cut ribbons through the dust from earlier. There was no shame in crying when you were hurt.

"Three minutes. We can't take another hit."

"Then we need to disappear."

* * *

The previous time that Tracy Island had been the destination of some unwanted visitors, Alan had been literally off the planet. Granted, he had spent it listening to his adopted-sister's true identity being revealed whilst being stuck in one spot due to the motion triggered-bomb less than a metre from his face and then watching his ride home fly away _without him:_ talk about a bad day! The point was that Alan had never actually heard the intruder alarm nor the one that signified a hostile craft entering the airspace behind the Tracy Island perimeter.

It was worth mentioning that Alan had been making himself a toasted bagel when the alarm suddenly started blaring and he'd been so startled that he flipped both the bagel _and_ the knife off the counter. He'd spent the next minute breathing heavily and staring at how close to his bare feet the knife had landed.

MAX, who'd been sitting on the ground next to Alan's feet looking sorry for himself (Brains was running some sort of experiment that required MAX out of the lab), bolted out of the kitchen and down a corridor that led past the concealed entrance to the hangars and along to Brain's lab. Alan watched him go with a frustrated huff, still clutching his hands to his ears. At first, he figured it was probably a drill (that was the sort of evil move that either Kayo or John would pull) and remained crouched behind the kitchen island until the glass on the far window in the living room shattered and something metal bounced through the gap.

Alan had watched many crime shows (John) and action films (Scott) in his life before and recognised gas grenades when he saw them. He kept low to the ground, thankful that he'd been hidden from sight in the first place and made a dart for the door on the other side of the kitchen. Bursting into the corridor behind, Alan shut the door quietly behind him and gave himself exactly ten seconds in which to wonder _what the fuck_ before he was on the move again. The corridor was the one that led around the back of the villa towards the roundhouse and had a door which opened out onto the path which wound around the island. Alan wasn't entirely sure where he was headed, or even what the procedure was. His mind was still caught up on _creepy guys just tried to knock me out with gas_ which, admittedly, was kind of awesome but also terrifying.

He slowed his sprint to a jog now that he was safely away from their point of entry and made a mental list of who was on the island. Brains, obviously, and Scott and Kayo. He decided that MAX also counted as a person and added him to the list. Kayo could kick ass and Scott was ex-Air-Force and therefore could handle himself well enough, so Alan turned on his heel and headed for Brains' lab.

This, in theory, was a good plan. The corridor was partly concealed so that it couldn't easily be seen from the living room as it led past the hangars, and Brains' lab was reinforced. What Alan didn't account for was that the intruders were working as a team and had made several points of entry.

Footsteps rang out once more, this time accompanied by gruff voices, and Alan pressed himself to the wall for what seemed like the hundredth time, holding his breath until they had faded. His heart was pounding in his chest and he felt as though he was buzzing with adrenaline. There was an underlying sense of terror that he didn't feel out on rescue. He had the advantage, he reminded himself, that this was his home and he knew it better than they did.

It was as he was thinking this that a hand closed over his mouth and an arm wrapped around his chest, dragging him into one of the storage rooms. Alan lashed out, landing a heavy kick to the leg of his captor and managing to free one of his arms, backhanding whoever it was behind him before he recognised that he was being held in a protective manner to someone's chest and that the hand over his mouth was to prevent him drawing the attention of the two masked men walking past just outside the door.

"Stop struggling," a voice whispered him as if on cue. "It's just me."

Alan went limp in the hold, hardly daring to breathe until the footsteps could no longer be held. The hand moved away from his mouth and he was released, turning on the spot.

"You scared the hell out of me," he accused.

Scott stared at him. "You kicked me and then slapped me, and _you're_ the one complaining?"

"At least you're not bleeding?"

Scott shook his head, tugging Alan away from the doorway and back to his side. "Never mind." He sidestepped a pile of cleaning supplies on the floor and a suspicious-looking box with Gordon's initials scrawled across it in spiky black writing. There were boxes piled high but behind them was a gap between the rest of the crates and the wall. It was a tight fit but hidden from view. "Alan," he beckoned the blond over. "It'll buy us some time while I think of a plan."

Alan, for once, didn't question him and ducked down onto his knees, crawling into the gap to sit with his back pressed to the wall in the corner and his knees drawn up close to his chest to give Scott enough space to hide too.

"Where's Kayo?"

Scott shuffled forwards to be sure he couldn't be seen. "I don't know," he admitted, scanning Alan for any signs of injuries. "Are you okay?"

"Um, I'm freaked out…" Alan relented. "Yeah, I'm fine. I was in the kitchen when they broke in. How'd they get past the perimeter?"

"It's linked to Five. I'm guessing they took down our systems." Scott didn't mention that he hadn't heard from Virgil or Gordon either. Alan may be putting on an unaffected front, but the fidgeting and jumpiness revealed that he was scared. "We've got to get to Brains. That's where Kayo will go if she's got away."

"You think they found her?" Alan's eyes were wide with horror. Scott mentally cursed his choice of words.

"It's Kayo, if any of us got away then it would be her."

Alan nodded, staring at the dust lining the wall where he was sat. There was no point dwelling on it. These people were on their island which put International Rescue at risk as well; he had to put his feelings behind him and act. This, he noted, was also what Scott appeared to be doing – there was a stark contrast between Field Commander Scott and Big Brother Scott and right now he was clearly the former.

"Let's go."

Scott leaned forwards, clapping a hand to Alan's shoulder. "You sure?"

Alan inhaled sharply. "Yeah." He couldn't help but tilt forwards for a hug. Scott was more than happy to oblige. "Let's do this."

* * *

Kayo was absolutely, definitely, one-hundred-percent, _pissed_. There were several reasons for this, but the most obvious one was the buffoon currently dragging her through the corridor into the lounge, depositing her on now dirtied floorboards. Kayo caught herself before she could face-plant into the ground, shooting the man the dirtiest look she could muster. Ordinarily, she would have broken his nose, but that was rather hard to achieve with her hands tied behind her back.

The biggest question she had was how they had managed to find Tracy Island. She knew they were here for the Thunderbirds; she caught two of them sneaking about the round-house trying to find a way into the hangar on her way back from her run. She would have taken them all out as well if it weren't for the third that suddenly appeared from the emergency escape chute that in all honesty she had forgotten existed.

"Tell me," a smooth voice announced, practically purring in delight as its speaker stepped out from behind the blinds. "Why do you struggle so? You must know it's useless."

Kayo scowled at him but kept silent. The urge to smash her fist into his smug face was overwhelming and she had to control to her breathing. He placed the gas-mask he had in his hand down on top of the piano and slowly sidled across the room, every footstep graceful and fluid like a dancer. Kayo's gaze flickered to the gas-mask, dread making her feel nauseous.

"You're looking at this?" He tapped it with one finger. "Ah yes, well I didn't want any trouble, did I now?"

"If you've hurt them…"

"Oh _please_ , spare me the threats." He placed two fingers under her chin, tilting her head back to admire her. "We both know that I have the upper hand. I'll make you a deal; tell me how to get to the Thunderbirds and I'll let you go."

Kayo pretended to think about this for a moment. The second she had heard the intruder alert she had alerted both the GDF and a certain London agent; it was only a matter of time before she had backup. All she had to do was stall them.

"No, you won't," she spoke, her voice quiet as opposed to her venomous tones of before. The man in front of her brushed the creases out of his cream suit and gave a light chuckle.

"No," he agreed with a smile. "I won't."

Kayo dipped her head, controlling her emotions through clenched fists. Another thought occurred to her and she tested her theory. "How did you find us?"

He ran a finger along the edge of one of Grandma Tracy's ornaments (thank God she was in London with Penelope, Kayo thought). "A colleague of mine had a few suggestions."

So, she was right. Kayo narrowed her eyes, glaring up at him. "So you _are_ working with the Hood?"

"Not working as such, but I will admit that he has been a great aid to our cause." He sat down on the couch, placing a cushion to either side of him neatly and delicately crossed one ankle over the other. "What is it going to be? Tell me where you have your crafts hidden, or experience my friend's…talents?"

Kayo met his stare with a challenging glare of her own. "Go fuck yourself."

* * *

Brains' lab was on lockdown when Alan finally skidded to a halt outside the doors, Scott hot on his heels, scouring the route behind them for any signs of trouble. The keypad was lit up in red, preventing anyone from gaining entry even if they knew the override code, and Alan stared at it in dismay.

"Now what?"

Scott shot him a wry glance. "Ever tried knocking?"

Alan bit back his sarcastic retort when the doors parted in front of them. Scott withdrew his fist from the air where he'd knocked as MAX appeared, a screwdriver and hammer clutched in his front two legs as makeshift weapons. His previous deep whirring sound of warning was replaced with a greeting chirp and he sped to the side to grant them entry. Alan noted the camera in place above the door as they entered, realising how Brains had known to let them in.

The scientist in question was not in his usual chair, but instead was pacing back and forth in front of a holographic map of the island, muttering to himself. Alan pushed a row of empty test tubes out of the way and scooted onto the bench, tapping with restless energy.

Scott waited until the door had locked behind him before he crossed over to Brains, landing a hand on the shorter man's shoulder to draw his attention. "Brains, you alright?"

Brains, shaken out of his thoughts, blinked at him for a moment before recognition dawned and he all but threw himself at the eldest Tracy brother with open arms. Scott didn't resist, hugging back just as tightly, a look of relief on his face at the confirmation that his friend was unharmed. MAX gave a disgruntled whirr by their feet and Brains patted his camera with his free hand in consolation.

"S-Scott! You're okay!"

"Yeah Brains, we're alright. It's good to see you."

Scott kept an arm around the scientist's shoulders a moment longer before returning to Alan's side. Whereas Alan had gently pushed the test tubes out of the way, Scott was stressed out and worried and consequently had no such qualms, shoving them across the table. Something landed on the floor on the other side with a crash.

"Oops."

Brains didn't appear to have noticed and the two Tracy brothers shared a conspirators' look. Scott sat down on the table-top and Alan shuffled closer so that their shoulders were brushing, taking comfort in the fact that he knew for sure that at least one of his brothers was safe.

"Kayo's not here," he murmured. Scott didn't respond at first. "Scott?"

"I know."

Brains retreated to his chair, sliding forwards to sit in front of them. "I haven't heard f-from Thunderbird Two," he began, staring forlornly at MAX. "We're w-well past their check in time."

Alan tried not to dwell on the connotations of _that_ statement. Scott was pointedly looking in the opposite direction to hide his expression.

"What do we do?" Alan didn't realise he'd spoken until everyone was looking at him. He stared down at the ground, a sudden wave of helplessness washing over him. "We can't…I mean…they're in our home. Gordon and Virgil are gone. So are John and Kayo."

"Don't." Scott cut him off, his voice sharp with what would appear to anyone else to be indifference. Alan knew better. It wasn't often that he heard his brother so upset or worried, which only highlighted the gravity of the situation. "We'll get them back. Right now, we need a plan. Brains?"

Brains didn't meet any of their gazes. "W-well." He finally looked up, pale and uncharacteristically unsure of himself. "I can s-shut down their s-systems, which would ground their crafts."

"And leave them trapped here. They wouldn't be able to defend themselves."

"I could also b-bring our c-communications back online."

"Awesome!" Alan slipped off the table-top, eyes sparkling with a newfound hope and an eagerness to start working. "Let's do it."

"We'd n-need to attach a bypass module to their s-satellite."

Scott had an inkling as to where this was going and why Brains had appeared so reluctant to broach the subject. To his left, Alan was still eager to begin, practically bouncing on the spot.

"I didn't know they had a satellite?" The teenager realised allowed, trailing the statement into a question as his voice rose at the end. Brains nodded, a grim expression crossing his face as he continued.

"Yes."

"So, we need Three," Scott concluded. "I'll take her."

"What?" Alan was outraged. "No."

"Alan, I'm not letting you fly out there. It's too dangerous. End of."

"It's dangerous down here too!"

"There is a difference between being locked in a lab and flying a rocket that could be shot down at any second."

"Scott, it's my ship!"

"No, it's _not._ "

Alan stared at him, eyes watering suspiciously. "Wow. And I thought…"

"You thought what?"

"That you trusted me. I can fly Three better than anybody and you know it. When are you going to stop _protecting me_?"

Scott turned away, running his fingers through his hair, shoulders high with tension. "Jesus, Al, that's my job."

"No it's not! _You're not Dad!_ "

They both froze. Alan looked as though he wanted the floor to swallow him up and shut his mouth with an audible snap. Scott didn't turn around and Alan stared at his back as though that was a good gauge of how his brother was going to react.

"I didn't mean that," he whispered in a very small voice. There was no response. He took a hesitant step forwards, wringing his hands in the base of his t-shirt. "Scotty?" His eyes were pricking with tears and he ducked his head to hide his face, wrapping his arms around his chest as if he could control the hurt that threatened to overwhelm him. "Scotty, I'm _sorry_." His voice broke on the final word and he stopped speaking, gulping a deep breath to no avail.

Brains hovered uncertainly next to him, unsure as to whether he should be offering comfort, or intervening. He backed away, retreating to MAX's side at the back of the lab so that he wouldn't be in the way.

"No, you meant that."

Alan startled, blinking frantically to rid his vision of tears. "No, I didn't."

"Yeah, you did. You're right. I'm not Dad." There was a self-depreciating laugh. "But _fuck_ , Alan, I'm _trying,_ and I don't really know what I'm doing and I'm sorry if that's not good enough, or if I'm doing this wrong, but you know what I won't apologise for? Trying to keep you safe. I will never regret that, no matter what you say."

There was a strange tone to his voice, wavering and thin, accompanied by a betraying sniff. Alan took another step forward, not bothering to wipe away his tears anymore. "Are you crying?" He couldn't help but ask, his voice rough from crying.

Scott didn't turn around. "Maybe."

Alan barrelled forwards, colliding with his brother's back. "M'sorry," he whispered in a broken voice, everything suddenly crashing down at once. Kayo was missing. So were his brothers. He didn't realise he was falling until Scott caught him.

"Allie, c'mon, it's alright."

"I made you cry!"

Scott didn't deny this, but dragged him into a hug, protective and oh-so-familiar. Alan pressed his face to his brother's shoulder, clinging back tightly, trembling. He was fully aware that he was practically sobbing, and that Brains was also in the room, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"I'm sorry," he choked out.

"I know," Scott murmured, dropping his chin to rest on Alan's head. "I'm sorry too." There was another sob at that, and Scott winced. "Hey, you didn't mean it, we were both angry and upset. It's okay." Alan mumbled something unintelligible into his shoulder. "Alan." Scott closed his eyes, reaching up with his free hand to cuff away stray tears. "Alan. C'mon. Look at me, kiddo."

Alan took a shuddering breath and let Scott gently tug him backwards. He kept his gaze low and Scott raised his head with two fingers under his chin so that they could make eye contact.

"Aw, Allie. It's okay."

"I made you cry."

"Yes," Scott admitted. "But so have John and Virgil and Gordon in the past. Also," he added as an afterthought. "I probably needed that."

Alan sniffed, rubbing at his eyes to prevent further tears. "We're gonna get them back, aren't we?"

Scott drew him back into a hug, ruffling already out-of-place blond hair. Alan relaxed against his chest, closing his eyes and trying his best simply to _not_ _think._ Scott's voice sounded from above him, mumbled into his hair.

"We'll get them back."

Alan was quiet for what seemed like only a moment but was clearly long enough to cause concern as Scott lowered himself to his brother's height by sitting on the table behind them. "Hey." He flicked Alan's forehead and Alan ducked away from the action, grumbling.

"Don't do that."

Scott smiled. "What are you thinking?"

Alan raised his head and met Scott's searching gaze. "You've got to let me fly Three. I'm the best at piloting her, and that's not me trying to sound cool, I've got the most experience. It has to be me, Scott."

Scott leant forwards, shoulders slumped. "I know," he said softly, resignation evident in his voice. Alan shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable. He wasn't used to hearing his brother sound as though _he were giving up_. It wasn't right. It was unsettling. He stepped closer, letting Scott pull him gently into a half-hug. "Alan, you're right. Three is yours. And John's been telling me to make it official for god knows how long now, and I didn't. But that's not on you, it's on me and I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

Alan lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "Well, technically I was still in training."

Instead of the grin Alan had been expecting, Scott shook his head. "No, that's not it." His voice was quiet so that Alan barely caught his next words. "I was scared. Making Three officially yours is accepting that I can't be there to look out for you on rescue and…"

"But that happens anyway." Alan couldn't keep the confusion out of his words.

"I know." Scott huffed a laugh. "Yeah, doesn't make sense to me either when I think about it." He sighed. "I'm sorry."

Alan studied him for a second. "Okay," he announced as brightly as he could make himself.

 _"Okay?"_

"Yep. You're sorry, I'm sorry, let's go get our family home."

Scott stared at him incredulously. "You know, you never fail to surprise me."

There was a meaningful cough from their right and they turned to spot Brains waiting uncertainly, one hand scratching the back of his neck in a nervous tick. "I…er…" He thrust his hands forwards. "Bypass module." A mechanical device that appeared too much like an explosive for Scott's liking was held in pride of place. Alan leant forwards, frowning down at it.

"It's smaller than I thought." He held up his hands at Brain's withering gaze. "Just saying."

"We've got to get Alan to Three without being spotted." Scott was thinking aloud, slipping off the table-top so that he could pace. "But they have guards posted all along the corridor. We barely got here before." He spun around on the spot suddenly, causing Brains to jump. Alan neatly caught the bypass module. "We'll need a distraction."

Brains gave an uncharacteristic smirk. "That can be a-arranged."

* * *

The corridor was empty, as expected, when the doors peeled apart and Scott stepped out, fists at the ready. At his signal, Alan followed, the bypass module secured to his belt. The alarm that Brains had set off at the far end of the villa had clearly done its job as the henchmen previously clinging to the walls like limpets were nowhere to be seen.

Alan remained silent, keeping his steps quick and light. When Scott suddenly came to a halt, he almost crashed into his brother's back. Scott grabbed his shoulder so that he did not fall over.

"What is it?" Alan hissed.

Scott snuck a look around the corner and withdrew again, cursing. "Three. Right in front of the door to the hangar as well."

Alan tried his best, but his nerves were clear to see on his face. "Now what?" He swallowed past the lump in his throat, fidgety but trying to remain quiet.

Scott looked from the bypass module to Alan and back again. "I'll clear the way and you make a run for it."

"Okay, one, that is a terrible plan, I have literally heard Gordon make better plans and he once jumped off the roof and onto a trampoline that he put in the swimming pool because he thought it would be fun, and two, you can't take on _three_ armed dudes. Look at them! They have _guns_ Scotty."

Scott grinned, cracking his knuckles. Alan had the crazy thought that his brother was almost relishing the idea of getting into a fight. "Yeah, but you're forgetting two things, Alan."

" _What_?"

"One, I'm ex-military, and two, those sons-of-bitches hurt my brothers."

Alan was still caught up on the fact that they had _guns_ but was a second too late to grab Scott as his brother slipped out from their hiding place. Instinctively he went to follow but then forced himself to stay put; he had the bypass module that they were relying on and one of them had to get to Thunderbird 3. He had to trust that Scott knew what he was doing.

He remained hidden behind the wall, trying to ignore the nagging voices at the back of his mind. So many things could go wrong, and not only that but there was still the risk of coming head to head with one of their weapons. He'd barely out-flown them last time and wasn't so sure that he could repeat such a feat. There came a sudden loud clatter of gunfire, a single shot, and he tensed, dread welling up along with a wave of nausea. _Don't be Scott._

A barely conscious figure skidded about the corner, crashing into the wall opposite with a groan. Alan stared at him for a moment, unsure as to how to proceed until Scott reappeared, not bothering to hide the smirk on his face.

"Told you."

Alan grinned. "You're awesome."

Scott shot him a smug smile, placing one boot on the chest of the slumped hostile by his feet, gently applying pressure just below the protective ribcage where it would _hurt._ Alan joined him, finally noticing that for all his brother's confidence he hadn't come away from the fight unharmed.

"You okay?"

Scott winced, running a finger over the back of his bruised knuckles. He was favouring one leg over the other and he had no doubt that he was going to have an impressive black eye forming. He decided not to mention that every time he took a breath there was a sharp pain along the right of his chest. "I've had worse," he mentioned, which did nothing to reassure Alan. "You have to go."

Alan's hand flew to the bypass module. "Okay."

"Hey." Scott caught his gaze. "You'll be fine."

Alan nodded, still not convinced, but headed for the door. The fingerprint recognition on the handle registered his ID, illuminating a harsh green in recognition. The lock clicked as it granted access and he took a step onto the stairs leading down to the hangars, forcing himself not to look back. The climb down was a long way as well as being steep and at first he took each stair gingerly, which slowly turned into jumps that covered several steps at a time.

He landed with a final leap at the base, frowning as he stared up at the Thunderbirds that towered above him. The hangar seemed empty without '2's massive bulk to fill much of the space, and both '1 and Shadow look rather forlorn, covered with scaffolding. Thunderbird 4 stood in her Pod instead of her launch tank, yellow paint gleaming in the spotlights. Alan gave her hull a fond pat for Gordon's sake on his way past, coming to a stop in front of 3.

 _His Thunderbird_. The words didn't quite seem real. He traced his fingers along the smooth paintwork in front of him, the familiar excitement igniting in his mind despite the added risks of the mission at hand. He hadn't realised quite how _massive_ Thunderbird 3 was until he was faced with the problem of trying to reach her cockpit without his usual launch route. At least he had his spare uniform on board, he thought wryly.

Surprisingly it didn't take long at all before Alan was in position for launch (he'd never been so grateful to see a grapple rope laying around). He struggled into his uniform in record time and leapt into his chair. The cockpit was bathed in the cool glow of holograms and the steady countdown to launch. There was an alert about incorrect lift-off procedure that Alan ignored; he was well aware that there were people not in the designated safe areas of the island, but he couldn't care less. He was fairly certain that they were not about to be fried crispier than one of his Grandma's cooking attempts, so pushed forwards on the controls. The red rocket glided from her hangar and up into the skies, disappearing into the clouds.

Alan kept a tight grip on the controls, barely daring to look down at the readouts in front of him. Part of him preferred to not know if there was an energy beam headed in his direction, but on the other hand there was always the slim chance that he could dodge it.

"Clearing atmosphere in three, two, one…" The automated voice made him jump; a harsh reminder that they hadn't heard from John in several hours. He tried to see if he could see Thunderbird 5 from his current position but found that the satellite was still obscured, hidden around the other side of the planet.

He flopped back in his seat but didn't allow himself to relax just yet. He was out of the way of any missiles from below, but he had yet to access the enemy satellite. The saying _out of the frying pan and into the fire_ sprang to mind.

"Approaching target now." Alan wasn't sure why he was even bothering with announcing this. There was no-one to hear him. A shiver ran down his spine. For the first time in a long while, space seemed as dark and desolate as it truly was. The wonder he usually felt at seeing the stars was gone, replaced with a sickening fear for his family down below.

The satellite was the typical pirate satellite that Alan had picked up and towed back to a GDF base in the past. He frowned, tugging his helmet into place and twisting it until he heard it click, signifying that it was locked into position. He stared at the hunk of metal through the windows and took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

"I can do this." He opened his eyes, determination and stubbornness taking control. "I'm going to do this." He paused on his way to the hatch and on a whim leant back, giving the side of the Thunderbird a fond stroke. "Wait for me." He grinned, delighted at the idea that this was _his_ , that he was the official pilot of Thunderbird 3. Well, if he didn't explode the satellite when attaching the bypass module, that was.

His spaceboard flitted to his heels when he exited '3, as faithful as ever. It wasn't a far jump from the rocket to the satellite, but Alan took it slow, keeping low to his spaceboard and stopping a metre away to run a scan for any onboard defensive mechanisms. The scan came back clean and he darted closer, finally stopping and placing a hand on the cold metal. Minute vibrations were running through the craft but other than that it was as dead and silent as the void it was in.

"Bypass module," he murmured in a steady mantra. He retrieved the bypass module and held it in one hand whilst he made quick work of the maintenance hatch with his laser cutter to reach the access panel. The wires were a tangled mess that clearly weren't about to meet any safety regulations any time soon and Alan winced at the sparks that flew off a few of them. His suit would absorb any smaller shocks that he may receive but he didn't want to mess up too badly. He was also aware that any false move could alert someone on the planet below as to his location.

"Which wire?" He was aware that he was growing panicked and slowed his breaths, watching the blinking of the light above the panel. "Come on." A memory surfaced of working on the electrical section of his science course, and of watching Virgil work on one of '2's engines in the past. " _Obviously_." He fumbled with the wires, anxious to ensure he didn't set off any alarms, and then a green light appeared on the bypass module. "Bypass module attached." He scooted back on his spaceboard, letting out a loud whoop and executing a couple of celebratory backflips for good measure. "I did it!"

Alan retreated to his Thunderbird, releasing his helmet and tossing it to the side in his impatience to reach the main radio and hologram projector. "This is Thunderbird Three. Can anybody read me?"

"Receiving you, Three."

Alan all but sprang out of his chair. "John!" He sat back as the hologram projector flickered into being, his brother's avatar cast in a blue glow. "Are you okay? We didn't hear from you in _ages_. Do you know about home? What about Virgil and Gordon?"

John gave him a tired grin. "Slow down, Alan," he gently reminded his brother. "Yes, I know about Tracy Island. I've been keeping tabs on the situation there through EOS, but my communications have been down all day. Thunderbird Two is at a remote airport in New Zealand near one of our agents."

Alan relaxed. "Are you alright?" He asked, his voice oddly serious.

"I'm fine. Tired as hell, but fine. You want to stop by on your way down and give me a lift?"

"You're coming home?"

"After the day we've just had?" John nodded. "Yes."

* * *

Virgil was in that strange phase between being too wound up to sleep and too exhausted to do anything _but_ sleep. The result was a haze that had him wandering about the airport in search of something to eat. Gordon was passed out in '2's cabin still, too tired even to flail around in his sleep like he usually did, although the discomfort from the electric shock previously also had something to do with that.

The sun was slowly sinking towards the horizon, dipping behind the mountain ridge and drenching the sky in a deep peach glow. Sun rays arched up between the clouds that were cast a pale pink. Virgil paused to admire it, briefly wishing that he had his sketchbook with him. It didn't stop him from taking a photo and saving it to his wrist console as he trekked back across the concrete.

Agent Twenty, a stocky woman with a round face and kind features, had been more than happy to help. She had kept all public away from the admittedly remote airport and had pointed Virgil in the direction of the cafeteria, mentioning that it wasn't well stocked. Virgil was thankful to have something other than ration bars to snack on and hadn't passed up the measly resources on offer.

Thunderbird 2's hatch slid to the side as he stepped up to her, welcoming him back into the cockpit. Gordon was in the throes of waking up, listing to the side in Virgil's usual chair, the blanket that Virgil had tucked about him now discarded on the floor. Virgil sat down in the co-pilot's seat, tilting it back and nursing his (ill-advised) coffee between his palms. He couldn't remember where he'd discarded his gloves.

"Hey."

Virgil rubbed the blurriness from his vision. "Hey," he greeted, not bothering to hide his relief at seeing Gordon awake once more. "You feeling any better?"

Gordon took a moment to consider this. Everything ached, and he felt as though he hadn't slept at all despite being out for a good three hours. His head was throbbing with an oncoming headache that he suspected would develop into a full-on migraine. "Been better," he admitted. "But it doesn't hurt anymore. Just aches."

Virgil hummed softly in acknowledgement. "You had me worried."

"Sorry."

"Gordon?"

"Yeah?"

Virgil smiled. "Thanks." Gordon didn't reply, looking away out of the opposite window. Virgil knew him well enough to tell that his brother was happy to hear the words though. "Hey," he remembered, sliding a paper cup with the 2060 eco-friendly-plastic lid across to the red-head. "I got you hot chocolate."

Gordon pouted. "What, can't I have coffee like the big kids?"

"No, small fry, drink your chocolate."

Gordon laughed and claimed the drink, retrieving his lost blanket at the same time. With it draped around his shoulders like a cape and ruffled hair on end, Virgil was struck by how young his brother suddenly seemed.

"What's up?"

Virgil blinked. "Nothing."

"I can hear you thinking from here," Gordon commented, taking another sip of chocolate. It was overly sweet and exactly what he'd been craving even if he hadn't realised it. He snuck a look at Virgil. Sometimes his brother really did know him better than he knew himself. "It's scary."

"Gee, thanks."

A companionable silence fell. The sun sank below the horizon. If Virgil leant forwards just a little further, then he could glimpse the first few stars appear.

"Thunderbird Two from Thunderbird Three."

" _John_?" Virgil couldn't help but ask incredulously, slamming his hand on the radio. "Why are you in Three?"

"Is everyone alright? What happened?" Gordon chimed in.

"Everyone's fine," Alan's voice sounded. Virgil wished he could activate the hologram projector, but it was still damaged. "Well, technically…"

"Hold on," John could be heard saying in the background. "I'll try and add home to the call." There was a scuffling sound, a rattle of static and then:

"Thunderbird Three, you have no idea how good it is to hear from you." Scott sounded exhausted and Virgil could only guess at what trouble his brother had got himself into now. "John? You're coming home?"

"Why is everyone so surprised about that?"

Virgil shot the radio a warm smile, but Gordon full out laughed. Alan, taking the cue from his partner in crime, joined in, and there were the sounds of familiar banter over the comms link. There was an underlying tension to it that still hadn't been addressed but Virgil was too desperate to get home to worry about it.

"Are we cleared for take-off?" Gordon echoed his thoughts.

"Alan gave control of their network to Brains with the bypass module, and Brains has grounded them. The GDF had apprehended all those that were on Tracy Island and are working on tracking the rest across the globe as we speak."

"I'm sorry, _what?_ They were on the island?" Virgil exclaimed. There was nervous laughter from Scott's end of the link and Virgil instantly knew that his brother had done _something_. He shook his head. Whatever it was, he would deal with it back at home and liaise with John; they had some serious damage control to do.

* * *

"Stop moving then."

"Kayo, what the hell?"

"I'm being _gentle._ "

John came to a halt, leaning against the doorway and watching his brother and adopted sister with fond exasperation. "What happened?"

The pair spun around on the spot, twin looks of guilt on their faces. Kayo's hands were overflowing with bandages and there was a first-aid kit open and spilling out on the couch where it had been rifled through. Kayo had a still sluggishly bleeding cut on her left cheekbone and another above her brow. Her fists were bruised, and she was clutching her wrist to her chest. Scott looked just as bad, favouring one leg over the other with an impressive black eye and a tissue pressed to his nose in an attempt to stop the bleeding. There was a disturbingly large crimson stain across the shoulder of his shirt which Kayo had been attempting to bandage. They both looked worryingly pale.

"Kayo, you okay?"

Kayo shook her head, silently drawing John into a hug. "It's good to see you home again," she murmured, the corners of her mouth twitching in a smile as she reached up on tiptoes to ruffle his hair. John patted it back into place with a mock-outraged look.

"Go get some sleep." Kayo cast a worried look back at Scott. "I can take it from here."

Scott didn't react. Kayo didn't argue, slipping past, the call of the shower and bed too hard to resist. John crossed the room and just _stared_.

"So?"

"I made Alan Three's pilot," Scott blurted out.

John tried his best not to roll his eyes. "After all these months, and you choose the _one_ time that none of us are here?"

"I never said I had good timing."

John sighed. "Yeah, I know." He frowned at the pained look to his brother's features. "Do I need to get Virg?"

"They had guns."

"Fuck, Scott, did they-"

"No," Scott was quick to reassure him. "It's just a graze."

"That doesn't make it any better."

"I mean, technically…"

"Just… don't. Don't finish that sentence, I don't want to hear it." John reached for the first-aid kit, aware of Scott watching him with a searching look. "What?"

"We were worried about you too, Johnny."

"Don't call me Johnny." The reply was automatic and after a moment John turned back to him, shoulders slumping and gaze downcast. "I was stuck up there. I had no idea if you guys were even alive or not."

"We're all here."

"I know."

"I would hug you right now, but…"

"Shoulder, I know."

There was a brief laugh. "C'mon, let's deal with this shoulder. Then we've got an announcement to make. One that's way overdue."

* * *

Gordon was floating. Not literally of course (that would be hard to achieve when laying on a sofa bundled in multiple blankets and wearing sweatpants but no shirt), but figuratively. This was probably due to the number of painkillers he was dosed up on. Alan was sprawled across the couch next to him, stealing part of the blanket with one arm strewn over Gordon's back and legs tangled in the mess of cushions at the end so that they could both fit.

Gordon stared at his brother. Then he stared some more.

Alan blinked at him. "What?"

Gordon studied him and announced in a very serious voice: "You got more freckles."

"Thanks?"

"Maybe you're just paler than normal."

"So are you."

Gordon did not deny this. He dropped his head back onto the cushion, narrowly avoiding crushing Alan's fingers, and yawned. He was sure when he was properly aware of his surroundings that he would be hopelessly proud of his younger brother, but right now he was content to just lay still and take comfort in the fact that Alan was _right there,_ and he was _alive_ and as annoying and ridiculous as ever, but _God,_ Gordon had been worried about him. He frowned. Huh. He was oddly sentimental when he was tired.

He flipped onto his back, earning a disgruntled sound from Alan as he was jostled. The lights were faint blurs of bokeh scattered across the ceiling, spreading a warm glow onto the patio outside. There was music drifting through the lounge, not from the piano but from Kayo's room upstairs. Virgil was nowhere to be seen, probably on a cleaning frenzy to try to rid the villa of any trace of those who had broken in. Gordon would ordinarily join him, if only to provide company (cleaning wasn't really his forte), but tonight he was too tired.

Alan had finally given in to the warm blanket of sleep, his breathing slow and even. Gordon tried his best not to move for fear of waking him. He must have drifted off too, because the next he was aware of was that the lights had been turned down low and the previously empty couches were now filled. Virgil was fussing over Scott's shoulder, the elder of the two looking suitably abashed.

A shadow fell over Gordon. He twisted to peer up at the person sitting on the arm of the sofa. A hand reached past him to ruffle Alan's hair. Gordon sat up, blankets falling from his shoulders to his knees. Alan rolled over, still asleep, and tugged the extra warmth closer.

"Hey Johnny."

John smiled but didn't speak. Gordon surveyed the room. There were a couple of plates partially filled with crumbs and cookies (the nice kind from Penelope's place, not Grandma's cremated versions). Virgil tossed one across to him and Gordon caught it, fumbling to keep his hold before taking a bite of chocolate chip, not realising quite how hungry he was until that moment.

"How long were we out?"

Scott answered the question. "About three hours. It's late." He winced as Virgil gave his shoulder a final look-over, skilfully reapplying bandages. "You feeling alright? How's your back?"

Gordon took a moment to take in how he felt. "Aching,but better. What happened to you?"

"They had guns. It's just a graze. I'm fine."

Gordon narrowed his eyes before deciding that his brother was being truthful. He had no doubt that if Scott had been exaggerating how 'fine' he was, then Virgil would have taken him to the infirmary already. He took another cookie from the plate John offered him, shuffling over to make space for his elder brother on the sofa. John, not usually one for too much contact, was more than happy, draping an arm along the back of the cushions. Gordon sank into blankets, leaning against the blond's side and resting his head on John's shoulder. He probably would have fallen asleep again had Alan not made to roll over and promptly plummeted off the sofa and onto the floor, catching Gordon on the chest with one flailing limb.

It was evidence enough of how bad a day it had been when none of his brothers reprimanded Gordon for the string of curses he let out. Alan, woken by the sudden fall, sat up, all wide eyes and ruffled hair and looking as innocent as possible. He tapped Gordon on the ankle, staring at him apologetically. The aquanaut rolled his eyes but accepted the wordless apology, passing the teenager a cookie. Alan scrambled back onto the sofa, cookie held protectively between his teeth, and flopped down, draping his legs over Gordon's lap.

John was silently laughing. For all the youngest two complained about Scott and Virgil's silent communication, they could be just as bad sometimes. Scott and Virgil themselves were now fully settled on the sofa, Scott leaning heavily against his younger brother as the painkillers began to kick in.

For a few minutes there was silence other than the chirping of the wildlife outside, and the munching of cookies by a certain pair of teens. Kayo didn't reappear, no doubt tracking down Brains to ensure that he was dealing with the day's events well enough.

"Thunderbird Three is officially Alan's."

It was not clear who was more surprised: Gordon and Virgil or Alan. Alan shot off the sofa, bounding over to sit next to Scott. Gordon responded by stretching his legs out across the free space. John lifted his arm from the back of the sofa to a protective embrace around his brother's shoulders.

"You finally made it official then?" Virgil questioned, his voice filled with amusement. "Took you long enough."

"You were being serious? Three's still mine?"

Scott raised a brow at him. "Yes? What, did you think I was just saying that because we were in a bad situation?" Alan pointedly looked away. "Al, c'mon. Three's yours. You've more than earnt her and…" He paused, watching his brother's reaction with an affectionate look. "You're a great pilot. You're a vital part of IR too."

Alan looked up from the carpet, eyes glistening suspiciously. "Thanks, Scott." His voice was unnaturally serious. Gordon decided enough was enough and broke the silence with a loud whoop.

"Hell yeah! Go Alan!"

"Right, I mean it should have been official several months ago, but _someone_ kept ignoring our advice," Virgil interjected, shooting John a knowing look. If only Alan knew the number of conversation Virgil and John had had trying to persuade Scott, pointing out Alan's clear skill with the rocket as opposed to the rest of them.

Alan was still awkwardly hovering in front of the sofa as if waiting for permission to sit down. Scott lifted his arm from the spot next to him and the blond leapt onto it, cat-like, curling up and settling against his brother's side, taking care to avoid his shoulder.

"We need to discuss International Rescue. We have all Thunderbirds apart from Three, Four and Five offline for repairs, and-"

"John?"

"Yes, Scott?"

"Just…take a moment. We can go back to saving the world tomorrow." Alan sat up at the words, eyes gleaming with excitement at the thought. "All five of us."

* * *

 _ **Obviously, it wouldn't just end here. It would take a lot of time to get over something traumatic like that. Maybe one day I'll write a oneshot about that, but for now, I'll leave it here.**_

 _ **Thank you all for reading and I'll see you for the next fic.**_

 ** _Leave a review?_**

 ** _Kat x._**


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